


a riot of feelings in the clamouring heat

by bysine



Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Amusement Park, Comedy, Everland - Freeform, Friendship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:28:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25110034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bysine/pseuds/bysine
Summary: All Wonpil knew was that he had already been far gone by the time Younghyun had sauntered up to him at the staff cafeteria one day at lunch, his green, blue and yellow Amazon Express aloha shirt tucked into his khaki uniform trousers, furry animal headband still clamped on top of his safari hat.---In which Day6 are cast members at Everland.
Relationships: Kang Younghyun | Young K/Kim Wonpil
Comments: 16
Kudos: 56





	a riot of feelings in the clamouring heat

**Author's Note:**

> For context, this was entirely inspired by [this episode of Workman where Jang Sung Kyu works at Everland](https://youtu.be/UQYCWLrCUy4). Disclaimer: I know nothing about working at Everland except for what was depicted in the video and as many Google translated employee Naver posts as I could find, so my apologies in advance to anyone reading this who has actually worked there!

Later, Wonpil would look back at that summer and identify close to a dozen moments that could have been The Moment. Because there must have been a point, Wonpil reasoned, when the general swirl of vague _I guess hyung is good-looking_ and _oh he’s also kind_ had coalesced into something more solid and far more inconvenient. 

On the other hand, perhaps it didn’t matter that Wonpil couldn’t identify that moment, because what was one beginning amongst all the other, bigger ones that sticky summer -- amidst the popcorn air; the ebb and flow of delighted shrieks in the heat; the lost children tugging on Wonpil’s sleeves. 

All Wonpil knew was that he had already been far gone by the time Younghyun had sauntered up to him at the staff cafeteria one day at lunch, his green, blue and yellow Amazon Express aloha shirt tucked into his khaki uniform trousers, furry animal headband still clamped on top of his safari hat. He’d had one thumb tucked into his belt in a way someone had probably told him was attractive. (That someone hadn’t been lying.) 

Younghyun had stopped right in front of Wonpil, who had just slurped up a chopstickful of _jjajangmyeon_ and probably had a bit of sauce on his face because such was life, really. And Younghyun had smiled that secret little smile of his -- the same one he’d given Wonpil the day he’d invited Wonpil on that nighttime jaunt to Penguin Island -- and said: 

“So I was thinking of starting a band.” 

\--- 

Everyone had a coming to Everland story. Some people, like Nayeon who operated the Double Rock Spin, had applied because working at an amusement park had always been on their bucket list. 

Jae had apparently seen a recruitment poster on his way to an interview at a _hagwon_ , at the tail end of the short-lived drive by management to hire more English-speaking cast members, and had decided that he’d much rather spend his days telling people where the nearest restroom was than help high schoolers figure out past participles. Dowoon had taken a year out of university to earn some money, and he'd figured the cheap dorm and 40 meal tickets a month would be a better deal than renting someplace in Seoul. And Sungjin, who had worked for close to three years and had therefore earned the dubious honour of being a super-senior cast member, was rumoured to have sent in his application by mistake. He had proceeded to stick out the recruitment process and the ensuing two years and eight months on account of the excellent grub on offer at the cafeteria.

As for Wonpil, well. 

Jinyoung had called him out for drinks one night, in the hazy weeks just after Wonpil had finished his military service, and said: “Why let all that dancing and singing go to waste?” 

And so Wonpil had sent in his application on Jinyoung’s beat up laptop right there at that tiny Incheon bar, the one where the _ahjumma_ still referred to him by his toddler nickname and packed him extra banchan for his _eomma_ , Jinyoung banging encouragement and ordering more beer while mumbling drunk excitable things about, “It’s gonna be so fun with both of us there, the terrible two reunited, and the dorms are great--” 

Then Wonpil got the job and moved into the Cast House and two weeks later Jinyoung had quit so he could spend the summer working at the nearby Korean Folk Village, where his on-again-off-again boyfriend Jaebeom ran a pavilion dressed as a Magistrate of the Afterlife. 

So that was that. At least Jinyoung was close enough for the occasional outing to Suwon on a day off.

No one knew what Younghyun's Everland story was. He apparently had a degree from Dongguk University, in business administration no less, but seemed content to have spent the past year dancing energetically while bellowing exuberant safety instructions and nonsense lyrics at the slightly-stunned crowds about to embark on their rapid current adventure through 580 metres of Amazon jungle* (*riders may get wet). Jeongyeon (who also ran the Amazon Express and whose status as a Suwon native made her integral to any group jaunts) was convinced he'd arrived fresh off of a bad breakup. 

All Wonpil knew was that on Wonpil's first day on the job, Younghyun had reached over to help Wonpil tap his staff card at the staff cafeteria, and then brazenly negotiated a swap so Younghyun could use Wonpil's token for a refill of the _tangsuyuk_ special. 

"Yah, Kang Younghyun-sshi," Jinyoung had said, returning to the table with his tray heavy laden. "Don't take advantage."

"Yah, Park Jinyoung," Younghyun had replied, in an amused voice that matched the fuzzy fox ears on the headband dangling round his neck. "Just because you're the ghost prince of the horror maze doesn't mean you can go around being rude to your seniors."

Jinyoung had indeed been promoted to ghost prince, which mostly meant that on top of being covered with the usual fake blood, he also had to put on truly unnerving contact lenses which were scaring his Naver followers. (In hindsight, this might have been a strong push factor for him leaving Everland.)

“I don’t mind,” Wonpil had said, holding out his staff card, because he really didn’t. 

“Thanks,” Younghyun had said, and sauntered off. Ten minutes later he’d returned with Wonpil’s card and an extra plate of mentaiko pasta, which had been balanced on top of his own tray with the _tangsuyuk_ special.

“I got you a refill of mine,” Younghyun had told Wonpil, setting it down in front of Wonpil’s already-full tray. “Thanks --” he’d paused, and looked down at Wonpil’s staff card, shocked mugshot photograph and all -- “Kim Wonpil-sshi.” 

“You’re welcome,” Wonpil had mumbled, several full seconds after Younghyun had walked away. Next to Wonpil, Jinyoung had rolled his ghostly eyes. 

So there had been that. 

And then Jinyoung had quit, and the summer season had started ramping up, and before Wonpil knew it, he was being greeted at breakfast by a gang of cheery fellow cast-members with a plate containing a single sausage and the words 'Congratulations on your first month!' squirted in ketchup across it.

"Oh wow," said Wonpil, staring down at the plate, because the exuberance of nineteen-year-olds was not to be underestimated. 

"We made some for ourselves as well," said Chaeyoung, whose main job at the moment was rescuing scared children from the Peter Pan ship. "Since we all came in on the same day."

She'd been one of the other candidates at Wonpil's group interview, where he’d been asked about his work experience, and probably the reason why word had gotten out so quickly that Wonpil had formerly been a JYP trainee. Well, that and the fact that he'd clearly been friends with Jinyoung, who had actually officially debuted five years ago before promptly undebuting a year later for reasons not quite clear.

"Thanks," said Wonpil, accepting the plate because there wasn't much else he could do. 

"Is that a death threat," said Jae, peering at the sausage as Wonpil took his now-customary seat across from him -- in the week after Jinyoung's departure, a complicated sequence of mutual room-swaps had commenced, which had ended up with Wonpil agreeing to move into a triple room with Jae and Dowoon. They had proven to be peaceable roommates thus far, although Jae tended to talk in his sleep and Dowoon had a habit of gaming deep into the night. 

"Is it your birthday, hyung?" asked Dowoon, returning to the table. He had on his tray a bowl of plain _juk_ and several egg rolls, which could only mean that he was on accompaniment service duty on the T-express again. Apart from doing safety checks and exuberantly bodywaving to departing passengers, Dowoon was sometimes called upon to ride with scared visitors on what was apparently the world's third* steepest wooden roller coaster. (*It was now actually the fourth.) While this had been exciting the first half a dozen times he'd done so, the famed 77 degree incline was now so routine to Dowoon that the T-express souvenir shop people had a photo album of discarded visitor shots in which he could be seen serenely holding on to various visitors' hands, seemingly impervious to the G-forces and general screaming around him.

Wonpil turned the plate around so the words were facing Dowoon.

"Oh," said Dowoon, squinting at the plate. He grinned up at Wonpil. "Congratulations!"

"Is that a sausage I see?" someone asked, and Wonpil knew without looking that it was Younghyun, sidling over from a neighbouring table where Sungjin (Younghyun's roommate and team leader for all the attractions at the American Adventure section) was still demolishing his breakfast. 

It was all too familiar, the beginnings of this uneasy flutter in Wonpil's belly, the one he knew well from trainee boot camps and long summer classes where there would always, invariably, be a hyung -- a handsome one, because they were all handsome -- who would be kind and say warm things and make Wonpil struggle not to follow their every movement each time they came into the room. 

Now Younghyun was leaning an arm across the back of the empty chair next to Wonpil, his aloha shirt unbuttoned to reveal the black undershirt he always wore, and Wonpil -- Wonpil was tired of this teenaged bullshit his stupid brain was putting him through again. He was twenty-three, for goodness' sake. 

"A _month_ ," Younghyun was saying, sounding amused, his other hand coming to rest on the edge of Wonpil's chair. If Wonpil leaned back just a fraction, he'd probably be able to feel Younghyun's knuckles brush his shoulder blade through his shirt. 

"Is the _juk_ any good," said Wonpil abruptly and to no-one in particular. He stood up, pausing for a beat for Younghyun to remove his hand, and then strode as quickly as possible towards the breakfast line. 

But there was no escaping Younghyun, it seemed, because the moment Wonpil had changed out of his uniform that evening, he’d been swept up by a group of assorted _sunbae_ for celebratory drinks (celebration unspecified) in the town just outside Everland. 

“Dowoon’ll join us later,” said Jae, who had popped up at some point during the walk from the side entrance of the park to the barbeque joint in Jeongdae-ri. “I heard the peak waiting time today for his ride was three hours.” 

Wonpil winced in sympathy. “Hope your shift was better.”

Jae shrugged. “Nobody’s vomited into the stuffed toy souvenirs yet this season so I’m counting it as a win.” 

Jae’s method of coping with the highs and lows of life at Everland was to employ a certain enthusiastic pessimism, Wonpil had discovered. This mostly involved setting the bar so dizzyingly low that a day of average shittiness would still exceed his expectations, as Jae had explained one evening to Wonpil and Dowoon in his perfectly-accented but idiomatically strange Korean. 

Wonpil wasn’t sure what it was that had caused Jae to develop such a disposition -- prior to his family moving back to Korea from California, Jae had spent a nebulous period of time either traveling and busking and/or on a work and learn scheme at a farm somewhere (Jae had gotten tired halfway through explaining this and gone to bed) -- but this did make him a surprisingly good shift partner, based on the one time he and Wonpil had been reallocated to crowd control duty when the evening parade had been understaffed. It had been nice to not have to be wildly enthused about everything, and yet not feel compelled to fall into the sour griping that seemed to be the primary means of bonding among some of the super-seniors. 

Chaeyoung and some of the other newcomers had been invited as well, and in the ensuing shuffle of various people trying to get a seat near the so-and-so that they liked, Wonpil and Jae had found themselves buffeted towards the end of the long table. Which was, of course, when they'd found themselves joined by Younghyun and Sungjin.

"Don't mind us," said Younghyun, sitting down beside Wonpil while Sungjin settled down next to Jae. 

"We should save a seat for Dowoon," said Wonpil, hoping Younghyun would take the hint and move down a cushion to the end of the table. 

"Sure," said Younghyun, shrugging off his jacket and dumping it on the seat next to him. He turned back to Wonpil, and winked. "Now shall we get you something a little better than a sausage covered in ketchup to celebrate your Everland monthversary?"

"It's just a job," Wonpil mumbled, but didn't object when Younghyun and Sungjin ordered drinks, and meat to go with it. 

And later he would blame the drinks, perhaps, for how he loosened up into the conversation, enough that he didn't mind when Sungjin asked him to his face about whether he'd really been a JYP trainee; didn't mind when Younghyun slung an arm around his shoulder for several seconds that seemed too-long and electric. 

"We could use some of this dancing skill at the Amazon Express," Younghyun said, his voice warm and the skin of his arm just brushing the back of Wonpil's neck in a way that made Wonpil forget the embarrassment of being asked about his trainee days; that sting of _not good enough_ that his _noona_ always insisted was just his imagination.

"Don't drag him into your madness, please," said Jae, rolling his eyes. 

"What do you mean, 'madness'," said Younghyun, indignant. "We're a crowd favourite."

"No rotations in the first three months," Sungjin added, pragmatically.

"Well," said Younghyun, squeezing Wonpil's shoulder. "Consider this a scouting."

Then Dowoon had come in, causing Younghyun to shift so he could move his jacket and get Dowoon settled in, and Wonpil tried not to feel disappointed at the weight of Younghyun's arm lifting away.

Jinyoung would probably laugh if he knew about this, but Jinyoung wasn't here to keep Wonpil from tumbling into this foolishness. And so, later, when they'd stumbled out of the barbeque place into the cool summer night and Younghyun had turned to Wonpil and asked for his number ("For emergencies," he'd said, in a voice so casual and ironic that Wonpil had almost missed the tentative look on his face), Wonpil had taken Younghyun's phone and keyed it in. 

Never mind that they lived in the same building, on the same floor, just enough doors away from each other that Wonpil could safely pretend not to have seen Younghyun while letting himself into the room. 

Wonpil had handed the phone back and walked on after Dowoon without waiting for Younghyun's missed call. But, drunk and foolish as he was, the buzzing in his pocket had still felt a little bit like hope. 

\---

In no order of importance, here was a list of things Wonpil liked about working at Everland:

The lull in the crowd after a heavy rain, and the way the water would drip off the umbrellas suspended above the Umbrella Alley at Aesop's Village.

How sometimes there would be a kid -- or a few kids -- wandering through Magic Land and it was clear from their delighted faces that they'd never been to an amusement park before.

Ordering in chicken and beer after a long day and gathering in the Cast Lounge to eat it; the sleepy camaraderie of people who had all had gruelling shifts of varying quality. 

The curious, calm quiet that descended over the park after closing time; how its bright colours grew muted in the night-time as the floodlights dimmed. 

The food, which was as good as everyone said it would be. 

Gaming with Dowoon and sometimes Jae, holed up in their bunks with the screen propped up on a chair until his eyelids drooped impossibly with sleep. 

Maybe, in the longer term, all of these things and the cheap dorm rent and the pay that was barely above minimum wage wouldn't be able to make up for his sore feet and his cheeks that ached from smiling; the bizarre song and dance routines he'd had to learn each time he was moved to a new ride; the hours in the heat and the time spent cleaning vomit and other substances from inside a bumper car or off the floor of some ride because the queues were too long to wait for someone from the Green crew to show up. 

But for now, perhaps, the things Wonpil disliked weren't quite enough to outweigh the things he did like. 

And on that list of things, although he wouldn't admit it to himself, not yet, was also this: 

Kang Younghyun at the dining hall at breakfast, diligently toasting a stack of bread so that if Dowoon ever hurled after one too many T-express rides at least there wouldn’t be kimchi bits in it. Kang Younghyun at lunch -- specifically on days that featured the following menus: _tangsuyuk_ special, _yukhoe_ bibimbap, omurice, and the elusive fried chicken burger -- when he’d invariably make his way to Wonpil even though there were probably half a dozen other people who’d willingly trade staff cards with him for the refill. 

Kang Younghyun when they did go out in a group to Jeongdae-ri or Suwon; the way Wonpil would find himself walking beside him, both pairs of their feet traitors and conspirators, and Younghyun would joke and tease but also fix Wonpil’s hair when it got messed up from the wind and Wonpil’s own haphazard attempts to shove it back into place. However much he teased, though, he never asked questions about Wonpil’s trainee years; not like the others who sometimes brought it up, careless or curious. It was as if he had seen, somehow, the soft and hurting core of Wonpil, and instead of holding this over Wonpil he’d simply let it be, the way bruised plants needed time and space to grow. 

And finally: Kang Younghyun after a shift, when he'd just changed back into his black t-shirt and cargo shorts, hair still a funny shape from a day of having a safari hat and fox ear headband jammed on top of his head, walking slowly because his feet hurt. No amount of pre- and mid-shift sports dextrose could possibly counter the exertions of the day, and yet, impossibly, he always seemed to have one last smile stored up: a quiet, private one that always made Wonpil feel like he'd just been told a wonderful secret. 

\---

"Do you play anything?" asked Younghyun, when they were in the Cast Lounge one night and Jae had been noodling around on the guitar. Dowoon, whose restless hands always fidgeted for a rhythm, had been recruited to put his drum school background to good use by tapping out a beat on the trembling coffee table. Sungjin, who had been forced to pick up first the cajon and then the guitar for some legendary performance in one of the Cast Festivals of yesteryear, now picked away at a second guitar someone had brought along to the dorms. 

"I played the piano," said Wonpil. "My _eomma_ runs a piano academy so it was kind of unavoidable."

"You played," Younghyun repeated, and Wonpil thought he would truly never get used to feeling the full weight of Kang Younghyun's interest. "Why the past tense?"

“Well,” said Wonpil, twisting his fingers together in the exact way one of the coaches at JYPE had told him not to. “I guess other things got in the way.” 

“They _do_ do that, don’t they,” said Younghyun, turning to glance at Jae and Sungjin, who had just done something particularly tricky and impressive with the harmony of whatever it is they were improvising.

The question had been on Wonpil’s tongue -- _what about you, hyung_ \-- but in the span of those spare seconds he’d run the words over in his head so many times that they had turned awkward and clunky, and he’d swallowed them back again. 

And then Jisoo from Rolling X-Train and a bunch of other cast members who worked with Jae at the gift shops had come in, and there had been song requests, and Wonpil had slipped away before Younghyun could return his attention to him.

Except, of course, it was never truly possible to slip away, not when the Cast House was simply two blocks of everyone stacked on top of each other, and everyone knew where everyone else lived. So Wonpil was not surprised, later, when his sleepy Youtube binge-watch of sneaker reviews was interrupted by a knock on the door. 

He _was_ surprised, however, to find only Younghyun standing there when he answered it, unaccompanied by Dowoon or Jae -- who both had a habit of delegating the task of carrying the room keys to Wonpil (read: forgetting to bring them). 

“Is Jaehyung-hyung looking for an extra guitar pick?” asked Wonpil, arriving at the only possible reason for Younghyun being here.

“Uh, not that I know of,” Younghyun replied. “He was still holding on to his when I left.” 

“Oh,” said Wonpil, furrowing his brow. “I thought you’d have joined them.” 

Younghyun usually did join Sungjin and Jae at these impromptu jam sessions. Wonpil had stuck around for a few of them, and been struck each time by the quality of Younghyun’s voice -- his effortless range; the arresting, heart-tugging sound of it. And then someone would invariably remember that Wonpil was there and would, despite all of Wonpil’s past efforts to establish that no, he was not prepared to sing, try to force Wonpil to cover _Again & Again_ or something equally mortifying. It hadn’t taken long for Wonpil to develop the habit of leaving these things a little early. 

Younghyun shrugged. “Maybe another time,” he said, his hands still stuffed firmly into the pockets of his jacket, which Wonpil had only now noticed that he was wearing. “I’m a busy man, you know. Lots of things to do.” 

Wonpil furrowed his brow some more. “Like what?” 

“Like help Momo with exhibit cleanup duty,” said Younghyun, fumbling in one of his pockets and pulling out a key card. "In exchange for this."

"Is that--" Wonpil began, squinting at the words on the sticker label.

"Want to see some penguins?” asked Younghyun, the corners of his lips curving into a smile. 

It was only when they were ducking through the cast entrance to Zootopia that Wonpil realised nobody else would be joining them on this Penguin Island jaunt. 

“Are you sure this is allowed?” Wonpil asked, as Younghyun led him past the empty gift shop and boarded-up Lost Valley snack booth towards a door labelled ‘Staff Only’. 

“Well, nobody’s ever gotten into trouble for it,” Younghyun replied, swiping the key card Momo had given him and opening the door with a flourish. He gestured for Wonpil to enter. “After you.” 

The staff door opened into a narrow flight of stairs, which led downwards to a second door that had been left unlocked. At Younghyun’s prompting, Wonpil pushed open this door as well, and found himself standing at the back of the small viewing gallery for the penguin aquarium. Past the four rows of benches was a wall of glass, which looked into the underwater portion of the penguin enclosure. 

Younghyun made his way along the benches, lit only by the dim light of the aquarium, before glancing round for Wonpil to join him. 

“I think they’re mostly just sleeping, hyung,” said Wonpil, shuffling over to the frontmost bench where Younghyun had made himself comfortable and sitting down beside him. It was very difficult to keep his voice neutral when his stomach was experiencing its own version of the T-express 77-degree vertical angle plunge. Wonpil was of the opinion that he was doing exceedingly well, in the circumstances.

“Yeah, but there’s still that guy,” said Younghyun, pointing at the lone penguin still flippering its way near the surface. As he did so, the penguin made a sudden dive towards the bed of the aquarium, sending up bubbles in its wake. "What’s his deal? He's clearly up to no good.” 

Despite his nerves, Wonpil laughed. Then he paused. “Is this some sort of… I don’t know. Everland welcome thing?” he asked. “Like did Sungjin-hyung bring you here after your first month--”

Younghyun snorted. “Can you imagine me and Sungjin-hyung sitting here in the dark?”

Wonpil paused to consider this. “Well, no,” he conceded. 

“This is just… a me thing,” said Younghyun, his expression growing calm as he gazed at the water, which cast dim ripples of light across his face. “I like it here, when it’s quiet like this. And penguins are cute.” 

“They are,” Wonpil agreed, and for a moment they just sat and watched as the lone insomniac penguin made its silent round around the perimeter of the aquarium.

This was exactly the sort of thing Wonpil would have dreamed about when he was younger -- sneaking out someplace lovely with someone who made him feel things. Except now that it was actually happening, he couldn’t help the constant swirl of his thoughts, the irrational worry that this was some kind of prank and the hysterical _but what could this mean_ that surged up in his chest every time he snuck a glance at Younghyun. 

Then Wonpil stole another look over at Younghyun, only to realise that Younghyun was looking at him. 

They both ducked away at the same time, one of Younghyun’s hands flying up to rub the back of his head as he turned everywhere except towards Wonpil in an attempt to pass that moment off as some kind of protracted neck stretch. 

Oh, thought Wonpil, watching Younghyun now awkwardly pretending to stretch his arm. How strange to think that _Younghyun_ might be nervous. 

And that, perhaps, was what gave Wonpil the courage to finally ask: “Hyung, what’s your Everland story?”

“My what?” asked Younghyun.

“Your coming to Everland story,” said Wonpil. “Everyone has one -- Jaehyung-hyung with the _hagwon_ poster, Dowoonie with his drum school fund...”

“Ah,” said Younghyun, with a wry little smile. 

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it, though, you don’t have to,” Wonpil added hurriedly. “I mean, maybe I shouldn’t have asked--”

Younghyun shook his head. “No, that’s okay,” he said. “Everland stories. I didn’t know they were calling it that now.” 

“They aren’t,” said Wonpil, feeling his ears growing warm. “That’s just -- that’s a me thing. I mean, that’s what I call it in my head, anyway.” 

Younghyun smiled. “I like it,” he said, and then was silent for such a long time that Wonpil decided that maybe it was a mistake to have asked him in the first place. 

“Sorry, you really don’t have to talk about it,” Wonpil said again. 

“Songwriting,” said Younghyun finally. “My parents said it didn’t matter what I ended up doing as long as I finished university, so that’s what I did first. And then I decided to try doing what I’d always wanted to do for a change, and, well.” He paused, and his smile this time bore a hint of bitterness that felt intensely familiar to Wonpil. “I don’t think I’ve really managed _that_.” 

“Oh,” said Wonpil, and ventured a curious glance over at Younghyun. It felt strange to see him look so serious. It hadn’t occurred to Wonpil that perhaps the general air of ease Younghyun projected was as much a method of coping as Jae’s cheery pessimism. 

“I’ve probably only told Sungjin,” Younghyun replied. “But, well. That’s my Everland story. Since you’re collecting them.” Then he smiled, warmer this time. “Don’t look so sad. I’m fine, really.” 

Wonpil shook his head. “Thank you for telling me,” he mumbled. 

“Thank you for asking,” Younghyun replied, pulling his feet up onto the bench and hugging his knees. 

Wonpil mirrored Younghyun’s movement, resting his chin on one knee. “I miss parts of it,” he said after a pause. “Trainee life, I mean,” he added, when Younghyun turned to look at him. “I don’t miss having to learn to dance, or the constant competition, but.” He stopped again; bit the inside of his cheek for a second before remembering that he shouldn’t. “I miss singing, I guess.”

Younghyun nodded, and gave a considering hum. “What’s stopping you?” he asked gently.

Wonpil was silent for a while, trying to think of a way to explain that sense of odd, curdling dread he’d begun to get every time he opened his mouth to sing, during those months near the end. How he’d never quite been able to shake it even after he’d left, even though it didn’t make sense for him to feel that way. 

“I don’t know,” said Wonpil, shifting to press his cheek against his knee so that his face would be hidden from Younghyun.

For a moment Younghyun said nothing. Then Wonpil heard the sound of him shifting closer along the bench, before he felt a hand come to rest -- tentatively -- on his shoulder. 

“It’s okay,” said Younghyun. “Wonpil-ah.” 

They remained there for a long while, Younghyun’s hand heavy and comforting on Wonpil’s back, until finally even the lone penguin had finished its circuit of the water and launched itself back onto land. 

\---

“You idiot,” said Jinyoung, when he’d come by the following week on Wonpil’s day off. He was accompanied by Jaebeom, who, it transpired, was also part of the Korean Folk Village’s traditional music b-boy troupe on top of his regular duties as Magistrate.

“I wasn’t aware there were b-boy troupes in Joseon,” said Wonpil, in spite of the all-caps missive to “BE NICE TO JAEBEOM-HYUNG” that Jinyoung had sent the night before. 

“Yeah, it’s a thing I guess,” Jaebeom replied, with an amiable shrug. He pointed at the Magic Cookie House. “Is that new?” 

“The cookies are not edible,” said Wonpil reflexively. 

“But seriously,” said Jinyoung, “You went on a whole date to Penguin Island. I don’t understand why you’re not simply just texting the number he clearly wanted to give you and asking if he wants to take a walk in that creepy doll park behind the Cast House.” 

“First, that wasn’t a date--” Wonpil began, to an extravagant eye roll from Jinyoung. “Second, the doll park is creepy and I don’t understand why it’s so popular,” he continued. “And thirdly and finally, haven’t you heard about not shitting where you eat?” 

“Dear sir,” Jinyoung replied, fixing Wonpil with the same steely look that had, apparently, been the cause of a 50% early exit rate from the Horror Maze at one point, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the entire point of getting a job at Everland _is_ to shit while you eat.” 

“Oh goodness,” said Wonpil faintly, and steered Jinyoung away from the nearest child. 

"How creepy is this doll park, anyway?" asked Jaebeom, lifting his bucket hat just enough to re-shove his fringe back under it. 

"Wouldn't you like to know, babe," said Jinyoung with intent, smiling his angelic choirboy smile, while Wonpil fully buried his face in his hands. 

"Look," said Wonpil through gritted teeth, "do you guys want to ride the T-express or not?"

Jinyoung opened his mouth, presumably to make some remark about riding some sort of express, and then shut it again under the full force of Wonpil's glare. 

"I don't feel like heights today," said Jaebeom, lifting the camera that was hanging from his neck to take yet another photograph of Jinyoung's face. "We should do that Amazon thing."

"Sure," Jinyoung replied, and, upon seeing the Look that Wonpil had directed at him, added, "I didn't put him up to this, in case you're wondering."

Wonpil just rolled his eyes, and set off towards the employee short-cut to Zootopia. 

On a conceptual level, Wonpil was aware of what Younghyun did on a daily basis at the Amazon Express ride. The entertaining safety instruction and subsequent song-and-dance sendoff was an Everland staple, after all, and common across all the rides. It was nonetheless amusing to watch, standing just off to the side of the snaking queue line with Jaebeom’s two cameras and Jinyoung’s selfie stick, as Younghyun launched into some sort of rap warning the guests that they would get wet and should put away their smartphones. 

And then, after a brief lull: the Amazon Express welcome ceremony. 

Wonpil had seen Younghyun taking a few of the new cast members through the dance steps in their first week, down at the parking lot near the entrance to the Cast House. But it was one thing to see the routine broken down into learnable segments and practiced without music, and quite another seeing it in its full, exhausting, hip-thrusting glory. 

On the main platform were Younghyun, Jeongyeon, and one of the nineteen-year-olds who’d joined on the same day as Wonpil, dancing totally in sync, feet pointed perfectly, arms pumping as they side-stepped furiously from one end of the platform to the other, and then transitioning effortlessly to some kind of energetic jazz step, all the while with Younghyun on the headset microphone shouting “ _One, two AMAZON… welcome to EXPRESS,_ ” and exhorting the crowd to clap over the relentless techno music. 

There was something about how Younghyun threw himself into this: with not a hint of embarrassment, his eyes under the brim of his safari hat filled with utter earnestness as he executed a sequence of jumping heel clicks, like he truly meant his welcome. It was strangely moving in how exuberantly _unnecessary_ it all was. 

And Wonpil, who sometimes felt embarrassed even in the middle of his own decidedly tamer greetings to the children at Aesop’s Village, found himself unable to look away. 

Then they entered the second freestyle verse, and Younghyun had _hopped up onto the pillar_ in order to do his best impression of a koala, which was also the moment Jinyoung’s boat had floated past just in time for Jinyoung to catch sight of Wonpil’s face. The look he had given Wonpil had been an eloquent one of _you’ve got to be kidding me_. 

It was then, standing on the other side of the Amazon Express platform while Kang Younghyun and ten other cast members climbed onto the sides of the boats floating by to execute their finishing dance moves, that Wonpil realised he had no choice but to come to terms with the fact that maybe, probably, he really did have a whole thing for Kang Younghyun.

Among the things Wonpil had learned, in the four years and change he’d spent as a JYP trainee, was this: that there were greater things at stake than whether some hyung who’d been nice to him had meant something more by that; that, in an environment where veneer was everything, where he and everyone else there were perpetually poised to _take that shot_ , it was possible for Wonpil to grab whatever howling thing it was inside of himself and shut it away until it grew quiet again. It didn’t matter how hard he’d fallen, or whether that undercurrent of attraction was mutual, because these weren’t things he could allow himself to have. 

He’d retained this habit, if not anything else, even after all the greater things at stake had turned to smoke and there were no more shots left to take. 

And so, after Jinyoung and Jaebeom had said their goodbyes to Wonpil at the train station, Wonpil sat down on a bench for several long minutes and allowed himself to feel the dizzying rush of his emotions -- the aching hope, the blood-pounding excitement of it. 

Then he stopped, and said, sternly and out loud to the foolish companion that was his heart, “ _Enough_.”

\---

But whatever grand plans Wonpil had for willing himself out of his feelings were promptly derailed the next day at lunch, when Younghyun interrupted Wonpil’s bowl of jjajangmyeon by walking right up to Wonpil -- secret smile on his face, thumb tucked into his belt -- and saying:

“So I was thinking of starting a band.” 

Wonpil stared. Then he remembered to chew. And then, having chewed and swallowed, he opened his mouth to speak.

“What?”

“You have sauce on your cheek,” said Younghyun, his smile widening into a grin as he reached for a napkin and swiped Wonpil’s face -- a move which more or less dealt a finishing blow to Wonpil’s resolve to stop feeling all sorts of feelings about Kang Younghyun.

"What do you think? About starting a band, I mean,” repeated Younghyun, in the face of Wonpil’s stunned silence.

"A band," said Wonpil, when he’d recovered from whatever it is Younghyun had just done. "That sounds nice? You should definitely do it." 

"Just to be clear, I meant a band with you in it," said Younghyun. “You don’t have to sing, if you don’t want to,” he added hurriedly. “But we could do with a keyboardist?”

“Ah,” said Wonpil, distantly wondering how it was possible for his heart to be beating quite this fast. Also, his mouth was still hanging open. He shut it with a click.

“If you need some time to think about it, that’s okay,” Younghyun continued, folding up the napkin and then seeming to realise he had nowhere to put it. “And it’ll just be a casual thing, so --”

“Okay,” said Wonpil, setting down his chopsticks. 

Younghyun blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“If you need a keyboardist, I’m happy to join,” said Wonpil, feeling a thrill of relief at how casual he was managing to sound. 

“Oh,” said Younghyun after a beat, looking both surprised and pleased. “Wonderful.” 

“Great,” Wonpil replied, still as casual as could be, moving to rest his arm against the table and putting his elbow straight into a dish of yellow pickled radish. 

The first meeting of the as-yet-unnamed band took place after dinner more than a week later, in an empty storage room in the basement of the Cast House that Sungjin had managed to borrow the keys to. In the intervening period, Younghyun and Sungjin had, through their combined efforts, managed to assemble an electric guitar, two thirds of a drum kit (apparently last used at the same Cast Festival of yesteryear that Sungjin had learned the guitar for; where the other third of the drum kit had gone was an ongoing mystery), and a keyboard which was usually used by one of the performance teams for rehearsals. All of these now sat together with one of the acoustic guitars amidst the general detritus of the room. 

“If someone had a nightmare of Everland,” said Jae as he entered, “I feel like it might look something like this.”

“Which part,” murmured Wonpil, “the giant light-up bear mascot head from the Moonlight Parade staring down at us from the shelf over there, or the headless mannequin in a school uniform just standing in that corner?” 

Dowoon, in the meantime, ignored them both to go fiddle around with the drum kit.

“Oh fuck, I didn’t even notice that,” said Jae with a shudder. “I was just talking about that." He pointed towards the other end of the room, where two hanbok-clad Lenny and Lara lion mascots seemed to float by the wall.

"It was the only room available," said Sungjin grumpily, appearing at the door with two folding chairs. 

“Probably because nobody else wants to use it,” said Younghyun from behind Sungjin. He was carrying a stack of three more chairs that may or may not have been taken from the breakfast hall. “Not that I’m complaining, of course.” 

Apart from Wonpil, it seemed that all of the others had had some sort of experience in a band. Dowoon had been in various groups since high school, and Jae, it transpired, used to play wedding gigs at some nebulous point in his past, as had Sungjin (albeit mainly as a vocalist). Younghyun had started one with a group of friends in his first year of university and they’d played in various clubs and bars over the ensuing four years, before disbanding just after graduation. 

“They’re all management consultants now, I think,” said Younghyun with a shrug. “But one of them said she’d lend me her bass guitar.”

“Hyung, so you’ll play the bass?” asked Dowoon. 

“I can,” said Younghyun. He glanced over at Wonpil, who in the midst of all this discussion had found himself shrinking smaller and smaller atop his folding chair. “And Wonpilie can play the keyboard.” 

“Great,” said Sungjin, looking pleased. “I was thinking we could try to get a spot on the Cast Festival lineup if we wanted.”

“I mean, sure,” deadpanned Jae from beside the headless mannequin, where he’d been fiddling about with the practice amplifier Sungjin had begged off one of the sound people from the stage shows. “Maybe after we’ve actually played a note together.” 

“Right,” said Sungjin. “Shall we?” 

It was a little like their usual jam sessions, in that someone would mention a song and maybe start singing the first few lines, while everyone else either picked up from there if they knew it, or tapped away at their phones for tabs. 

Before the meeting, Younghyun had mentioned to Wonpil that he should suggest songs he thought would be nice for them to try out. Wonpil had, in fact, spent the next two days intermittently scrolling his own playlists for things that he liked, but he found himself holding back in the face of Jae, Sungjin and Younghyun’s already diverse tastes. Instead, he tried to follow along as best he could, mostly playing the chords and some clumsily improvised filler at points. 

His improvisation was not helped by the fact that Younghyun, who did not yet have his bass, had helpfully installed himself next to Wonpil to look up the chords for each song and to scroll along while Wonpil’s hands were occupied. Even as he did so, he still sung along with enviable ease, with his smooth little ad libs and deft harmonies that blended so well with Jae and Sungjin’s voices. Not that Wonpil could really pay attention, not while he was caught up in trying not to play the wrong thing while Younghyun was _right there_ at his elbow.

Yet somehow, even with Wonpil’s fumbling and Dowoon having to shout additional noises in place of the missing third of his kit; even with Jae and Sungjin stealing each other’s lines -- it _worked_. Amidst all the false starts and the ‘ _hang on I don’t think I actually know this one_ ’s, there were moments of genuine togetherness that made Wonpil smile even as he played; to look up and catch someone else’s eye -- and see that they were smiling too from how _good_ it was. 

It was close to midnight by the time they were done, the echoes of their last song giving way to tired, exhilarated silence and grins all around. 

“Not too shabby at all,” said Sungjin proudly, while Jae played a jubilant scale on his guitar and Dowoon nodded vigorously.

“What do you think?” said Younghyun after a pause, so quietly that probably only Wonpil could hear him. 

Wonpil opened his mouth to speak, and found himself unable to around the lump in his throat. 

\---

In the days that followed that first practice, Wonpil walked around feeling like the energy of it had somehow settled in his bones, making his limbs restless, making his fingers itch to grasp again that gorgeous thing -- that moment when the notes lost their names and his fingers sought out the right keys ahead of him; thought subliming to music. 

It wasn’t just Wonpil. He could see how Jae spent a lot more of his free time messing around on the guitar in the Cast Lounge; hear the constant, unconscious rhythmic fidget of Dowoon’s hands even in the darkness of their shared room. Sungjin, in the meantime, appeared to be directing his energy towards amassing more equipment for the practice room. And, finally, there was Younghyun, who seemed to go about with a tune tucked in his chest, its jaunty melody spilling out in a lovely hum every now and again. 

They’d agreed, after that first practice, to meet again after Dowoon had managed to track down viable replacements for the missing parts of the drum kit. As luck would have it, one of his drum _sunbae_ from university was relocating from Seoul back to Busan, and was willing to sell some already second-hand pieces at an extremely low price, provided Dowoon was willing to pick them up himself. 

“I could go with you,” Wonpil had offered, because his scheduled days off tended to coincide with Dowoon’s. “If you need help carrying things.”

“Wonpil-hyung is the best,” Dowoon had replied, with a grin and a thumbs up, and they’d marked their next day off on each of their calendars. 

Then it transpired that Younghyun’s next day off coincided with theirs, and that Younghyun’s former bandmate would be back in town after a two-week stint consulting for a wet wipe manufacturer in Gwangju, which is how all three of them ended up making the trip to Seoul together. 

Strangely enough, there was a dreamlike aspect to _leaving_ Everland, even as they exited the colourful shuttle bus station and boarded the considerably greyer subway. Perhaps it was simply a matter of having become accustomed to the cheery signs and the constant air of people on a holiday, thought Wonpil. Or maybe it was the strangeness of leaving all of that and yet still being accompanied by Dowoon and Younghyun, whom Wonpil had, prior to this, very much categorised in his mind as people he’d only seen in Everland. 

“Seats,” grunted Dowoon the moment they’d entered the relatively empty subway carriage. He headed for the nearest corner one and fell asleep as soon as he sat down. 

Wonpil and Younghyun exchanged amused looks.

“The night before a day off,” said Wonpil with a shrug. “You know how it is.”

Younghyun nodded. “Staying up late gaming like there’s no tomorrow.” 

They sat down, Wonpil beside Dowoon and Younghyun on Wonpil’s other side. The benefit of travelling off-peak on a weekday was that the subway carriage was nearly empty. This would have been ideal for sleeping, as Dowoon was currently doing with as much wild abandon as one could have while out cold with their mouth open. Except that Wonpil wasn’t sure he’d be able to get much sleeping done with Younghyun right next to him, their elbows knocking as if there weren’t at least five other seats available in the carriage. 

Younghyun, too, seemed somehow nervous outside the familiar surroundings of the Cast House or the park itself, glancing at Wonpil every now and then like he wasn't quite sure if Wonpil might suddenly vanish. 

“How long do you think it’ll take before we reach Seoul?” asked Wonpil, even though he’d looked this up the night before while lying awake in the dark. 

“Less than two hours, if we don’t miss any trains,” Younghyun replied. 

On Wonpil’s other side, Dowoon gave a gentle but optimistic snore.

“Well, better get comfortable,” said Wonpil, opening his backpack to look for his earphones while Younghyun resumed his endless scroll of MangoPlate listings for cheap but delicious food. 

After a minute or so of rummaging, Wonpil realised with growing dismay that he may not have done such a good job of packing after all. 

“What are you looking for?” asked Younghyun.

“I must have forgotten my earphones,” said Wonpil forlornly, zipping up an inner pocket he’d checked at least thrice before. 

“Oh,” said Younghyun, opening his backpack which was occupying the seat beside him. He reached inside and pulled out his own, which were wound up rather neatly and clipped, unlike Wonpil’s, which usually cavorted with the rest of the contents of his bag in a tangled snarl. “You can use mine.”

“But don’t you also--” 

“I brought a book,” said Younghyun, and deposited the earphones into Wonpil’s hand. 

“Thanks, hyung,” mumbled Wonpil.

Younghyun simply nodded, and then busied himself with retrieving a copy of the _The Temperature of Language_ from the depths of his bag. As Wonpil carefully unwound the cable and plugged it into his phone, however, it occurred to him that there was in fact a way for neither of them to have to spend the two-hour journey in silence. 

“Hyung,” he said quickly, before he could overthink it, and held out one of the earbuds. He could already feel his ears growing warm. 

“Oh,” said Younghyun, fumbling to take it and losing the page in his book in the process. “Are you sure?”

Wonpil felt a laugh bubble in his chest despite the nerves. “Hyung, they’re _your_ earphones.” 

Younghyun grinned, slightly sheepish. "That's true."

"What do you like to listen to?" asked Wonpil, scrolling through his Melon homescreen.

"How about you pick?" Younghyun replied. "I'm curious to know what Kim Wonpil listens to."

"Curious?" repeated Wonpil, clicking over to his playlists. "There's nothing to be curious about. I'm very boring."

"Oh I beg to differ," said Younghyun. He stuck the earbud into his ear and leaned an elbow against the back edge of the subway seat, resting his head against his hand and looking at Wonpil with an amused expression. "One day Park Jinyoung announces that his very best friend is coming to Everland and 'you peons better be nice to him or _else_ ' --"

"Surely Jinyoungie didn't call _you_ a peon, hyung," Wonpil giggled.

"He was addressing the _hoobae_ ," Younghyun replied, "while still in his Ghost Prince costume, mind you."

"Covered in fake blood?" 

Younghyun nodded. "The works. Terrifying."

"Wow," murmured Wonpil, imagining an imperious Jinyoung terrorising the various nineteen and twenty year olds. "I'm kind of touched."

"And so people were wondering which equally terrifying individual had the honour of being _very best friends_ with Park Jinyoung," Younghyun continued. "And then you turned up, all mysterious and--"

"Forgetting to bring bedsheets and a pillow even though Jinyoung sent me three texts reminding me to," Wonpil interjected.

"-- and sheetless, yes," Younghyun agreed.

"I didn't know they were yours, by the way. Jinyoung just showed up with them," said Wonpil. 

Younghyun shrugged. "You took very good care of them, in any case."

Wonpil had gone by Younghyun and Sungjin's to return the sheets after the first week, after Wonpil and Younghyun had already had their first proper meeting at the staff cafeteria. 

"That's a five thousand won rental fee for the sheets," Sungjin had remarked upon answering the door.

"Don't mind him," Younghyun had said, climbing down from the top bunk, missing the bottom rung, and righting himself after he'd half-tripped, half-landed on the floor. The smile he’d given Wonpil after that had been goofy yet somehow charming.

"I mean, I laundered them," Wonpil said now, giving Younghyun an incredulous look. "That's the bare minimum, isn't it?"

Younghyun laughed. "You'd be surprised."

"Ugh," said Wonpil, making a face.

"Anyway, is it the creatively titled 'Playlist Seven' that we'll be listening to today, or the tantalising 'Playlist Eight'?" Younghyun asked, having snuck a glance at the screen of Wonpil's phone. 

"The way I name my playlists is very private and personal to me," said Wonpil, as sternly as he could manage, which wasn't very stern at all in the face of the look Younghyun was giving him -- so unjustifiably fond that Wonpil's ears grew warm again. 

"Well," he said, poking at Playlist Six, which was particularly good for long meanders or commutes. "Just to satisfy your curiosity."

"Ah," said Younghyun in recognition, as the first song began to play. "As expected. A man of impeccable taste." 

And then, seeming to take pity on Wonpil (who could feel himself turning pink), Younghyun returned to his book, humming along quietly as he searched for his page again. 

\---

"How did it go?" demanded Jinyoung later that night, when Wonpil had ducked into the staircase landing to call him. "Your Seoul date."

"It wasn't a _date_ ," Wonpil replied. "And anyway Dowoon was there."

"Still counts," said Jinyoung. "Jaebeom and I have gone for half a dozen dates with you in tow."

"Please don’t remind me," said Wonpil, burying his face in his free hand as he recalled the various instances where he'd accepted an invitation from Jinyoung to 'just hang out' and had ended up perusing the magazine section of some cute indie cafe-bookstore while the two of them disappeared for an unspecified period of time. 

"We had that souffle thing together, didn't we," said Jinyoung, in tones of nostalgia. "That was delicious."

"Jaebeom ate most of it," Wonpil grumped. "And then someone recognised you as 'the guy Shownu sang _Bounce_ with' and you sulked for the rest of the afternoon."

"I choose to remember the nice parts of that day," Jinyoung replied beatifically. "And speaking of nice parts, _please_ tell me you did other things besides haul instruments around and listen to music together -- which, I must add, was a brilliant move on your part."

"I didn't -- it wasn't meant to be a _move_ ," Wonpil protested. 

But it had been nice, anyway, sitting there beside Younghyun, idly people-watching while Younghyun read. The songs so familiar to Wonpil seemed made new again by the fact that he was sharing them with Younghyun for the first time. And every time there was a particularly lovely part -- some harmony that always made Wonpil's heart twist, or a piano hook that he'd tried himself -- they would find themselves glancing at each other in mutual appreciation, a silent _that was nice_ that would make Wonpil duck his head again because he couldn't hide how hard he was smiling. 

They'd woken Dowoon up long enough to change lines at Giheung station, and had then resumed their exploration of Wonpil's playlists once they had settled in for the next leg of their train journey. 

Younghyun had not bothered to take out his book this time. They chatted quietly instead -- about favourite bands and forays into different genres of music; about their earliest memories of getting their first portable music device; the first albums they’d truly fallen in love with -- with natural lulls in the conversation every time a particularly good song came on.

"We should try playing this one," Younghyun would say of a certain track, and Wonpil would be secretly pleased whenever it was one that Wonpil had already included in his earlier list of prospective band songs. 

Or something else would play and Younghyun would be reminded of another song that had a similar vibe. 

“Oh,” he would say, touching Wonpil’s sleeve in his excitement, “you should look up this album,” and Wonpil would dutifully type in the name on his phone while trying to ignore the brush of Younghyun’s fingers against his arm. (In addition to an entire new playlist, which Younghyun had insisted bear the title 'Very Good Songs', Wonpil had now also separately amassed a collection of different ways Younghyun had gotten Wonpil’s attention, from nudging him in the shoulder to tapping him on the arm to, just the one time, grabbing Wonpil’s wrist to pull him from the path of an oncoming bicycle.)

“ _Sure_ ,” Jinyoung was saying now. “Definitely not a move.” 

"Well, we also ate lunch at this Vietnamese place,” Wonpil told Jinyoung, “which Younghyun-hyung’s friend recommended.” 

“Good to know you’re back at it,” Younghyun's friend and former bandmate had said before they had parted, punching Younghyun in the arm with a slightly envious look on her face. “That makes at least one of us.” 

“Text me if you’re planning to visit Everland,” Younghyun had replied, with a wry little smile. “I’ll break out my best aloha shirt.” 

Jinyoung made an impatient sound. “And then?”

"And then nothing else happened," Wonpil said, not seeing it necessary to mention the subsequent bus journey and hike up a steep hill to get to Dowoon’s _sunbae_ ’s house, or the considerably more uncomfortable subway journey back to Everland. Heavy laden with the bass guitar and several boxes containing the rest of Dowoon’s drum kit, there had been no other option but to stand on the subway, which had also grown more crowded later in the day. 

Nor did Wonpil _want_ to talk about the moment on the train when, after stopping at a large interchange station, the surge of new passengers had resulted in Wonpil getting jostled up against Younghyun amidst the irritable _tsk_ s of several people almost walking into their cargo. 

There hadn't been very much space for Wonpil to move away, so despite their best efforts Wonpil had ended up spending several stops squashed against Younghyun's chest, head turned away in a desperate attempt not to make eye contact, hoping madly that Younghyun wouldn't be able to feel the way Wonpil's heart was hammering in his chest. 

No, he was decidedly not mentioning any of this to Jinyoung, who would probably start going on about the creepy doll park again. 

"Well, how are you feeling?" asked Jinyoung, interrupting Wonpil's thoughts. 

"I --" Wonpil began, then paused. "Happy, I guess."

"Good," said Jinyoung, sounding satisfied. "You'd better be," he added, before Wonpil had a chance to feel touched by Jinyoung's concern for his emotional well-being, "after abandoning Jaebeom and me at the Folk Village to go off gallivanting in Seoul."

He really _was_ happy though, Wonpil realised, as he lay in bed that night listening to the Very Good Songs playlist, while Dowoon exhaustedly tried to squeeze out the last hours of his day off by playing League of Legends and Jae murmured something in Japanese in his sleep. 

It was an odd feeling, he thought, putting his hand to his chest. So light and lovely; this hopeful clarity that had seemed so foreign to him in recent years. 

\---

And so: an accounting.

On the list of things Wonpil liked about working at Everland, he added band practice in the storage room with the door and narrow basement window propped open, working through the chords of one of the songs they were practising for the Cast Festival auditions. 

Sungjin and Dowoon had, over time, figured out some sort of optimal configuration with the monitor speakers and the microphones, which meant that Younghyun and Wonpil had ended up on the side of the room with the Lenny and Lara mascots, while Dowoon sat dangerously close to one of the shelves, his complete drum kit arrayed before him, and Sungjin and Jae were nearest to the door. 

Wonpil liked this, too, because it meant that Younghyun would sometimes wander closer when the others were distracted figuring out some part, to share some idle joke, or just to fiddle with Wonpil's music or keyboard settings for no apparent purpose.

What he liked most of all, however, was how they were getting better at playing together and at reading each other's cues; the easy way that someone would do something new on their instrument or with their part and see the others nod along and build on it. He loved every moment of it, even the blunders; even Jae getting frustrated about something sounding off but not being able to put his finger on it quite yet, or Sungjin irritably adjusting his microphone stand back down every time Younghyun made it higher for the benefit of Sungjin's posture. 

And all of the things Wonpil liked made bearable the things Wonpil _dis_ liked: the high heat of the true summer months, where despite Wonpil’s best efforts at diligently applying sunblock, he still managed to burn the back of his neck so badly that Younghyun hissed in sympathy just looking at it. 

"You need to put something on it," Younghyun had remarked, but Wonpil had waved him off, being more concerned with writing down the chord progression idea that had struck him while he had been changing out of his uniform. 

Younghyun had ultimately gotten his way later at band practice, when he'd managed to slather aloe on the burn while Wonpil had been occupied with moving some cables (the cables had been Sungjin's contribution to this operation). 

Wonpil had yelped at the sudden cold touch of Younghyun's aloe-covered fingers, and dropped the wires, and then he'd stood there frozen for a second because those were _Younghyun's fingers_ on his neck. 

"Great," Jae had intoned, pausing in his adjustment of one of the two standing fans so that it would blow directly at his face. "Now you've broken him."

"I think his ears are starting to look a little sunburnt too," Sungjin had remarked as he gathered up the fallen wires.

"Are they?" Younghyun had said, reaching for the tube of aloe he’d left on the chair he had been using as a music stand. In the meantime, Wonpil had unfrozen and darted away, pulling the collar of his t-shirt up to his ears and giggling nervously. 

Worse than the summer heat, however, were the crowds, and with them, the occasional reshuffling of manpower due to the influx of holiday part-timers. 

Which was how Wonpil had ended up being transferred from Magic Land to the Bomb Bomb Man parade team at the Nerf Water Battle Zone, a job which involved dancing in a bomb mascot head costume and then being attacked by dozens of children all armed with super-soakers. 

"It can't be helped, I suppose," Wonpil had said woefully after his first day, when he'd staggered to band practice thoroughly defeated, his face vigorously scrubbed of layers of waterproof makeup and his hair not quite rid of the dubious smell that haunted the inside of the bomb heads. 

"Although I don't know if my fingers will ever become unpruned," he had added, looking forlornly at his hands.

And then it had transpired that the only reason why they'd been short of Bomb Bomb Man dancers was because Hwang Hyunjin had quit to join the Korean Folk Village.

"Damn you, Park Jinyoung," Wonpil had muttered under his breath, when one of the other dancers, a breathless _hoobae_ named Seungmin, had broken the news.

"Then Manager Jung said something about Wonpil-sunbaenim being able to learn the dance quickly," Seungmin had continued, possibly in a misguided attempt to cheer Wonpil up, “because you were a JYP trainee.”

" _JYP_ ," Wonpil had whispered more woefully this time, burying his face in his hands at the surplus of Park Jinyoungs in his life.

"Don't smudge the waterproof mascara before it sets!" bellowed Ryujin, who had earlier handed Wonpil a pair of boat shoes that had probably belonged to the traitorous Hyunjin. 

So it was not ideal, Wonpil reasoned, but when had it ever been? And in spite of the sunburn and the being super-soakered by children and the exhaustion of dealing with the high season crowds --

There was still the band, and there was still Younghyun. Younghyun, who had forced the rest of his aloe supply onto Wonpil that day; who felt sometimes to Wonpil like the only cool and soothing thing amidst the heat and frenzy of the days melted stickily together. Looking back now, Wonpil knew that however much he could have tried, he couldn't have fought it -- couldn't have fought the weary sweetness of Younghyun's smile at the end of each day; the thrill of their uncertain orbit.

And if Wonpil was doing his accounting right, then, well. It wasn't so bad after all.

\---

Then there was this:

Younghyun, catching Wonpil's arm at the end of practice, while the others were busy packing up. Now that the Cast House had become unbearably stuffy, they had all taken to wearing shorts and t-shirts whenever they could, and so Younghyun's fingers were too-warm against Wonpil's skin. 

"Do you think I could borrow you for a minute?" Younghyun asked. "After this, I mean."

Wonpil nodded, distracted for a moment by the way Younghyun's slightly damp hair was curling against his forehead. "Okay."

Younghyun smiled, and squeezed Wonpil's arm before letting go, and they'd hung back a little while the group was leaving the basement, Younghyun giving Jae some sort of signal to go on ahead with the others (Jae looking back at them with his unimpressed blank face).

"It's stupidly warm, isn't it," Younghyun murmured, when they were alone. 

"Yeah," said Wonpil, watching a bead of sweat trace the curve of Younghyun's face from temple to jaw before Younghyun swiped it away with the back of his hand. Then he blinked, and focused his attention back on Younghyun. “What did you want to borrow me for?” 

“Oh,” said Younghyun, with a rare uncertain look. “Well.” He paused, and then seemed to gather up some courage from his enviable reserve to say, “I… wrote something.” 

“A song?”

“Well, maybe three quarters of one,” Younghyun replied, and then gazed down at his feet. “I thought maybe you could listen to it and -- well, maybe you could tell me if the lyrics make sense.” 

“Of course,” said Wonpil, curious and also _pleased_ that Younghyun was trusting him with something so private and precious. 

So Younghyun settled in with the acoustic guitar and his notebook propped up on another chair in front of him, while Wonpil sat on an upside-down plastic crate just beside him, elbows resting on his knees as he watched Younghyun scan the page, his fingers moving to form ghost chords on the fretboard, centering himself. 

Then Younghyun took a breath, and started to play, and Wonpil, undistracted by having to focus on the keyboard, was able to see the exact moment that the nervous Younghyun gave way to another, braver Younghyun -- the one who was all fearless ease, who slipped into the music like he’d always been meant to live there. 

And the _song that he sang_. How was it, Wonpil wondered, that Younghyun had been able to capture everything about the past two months in the playfulness of the plucked chords, the smooth weight of his melody evoking the sticky light sweetness of summer, the riot of feelings in the clamouring heat? Then there were lyrics, the words Younghyun had asked Wonpil to see made sense: Younghyun sang about giddy long train rides and sharing smiles and how in the cool aquarium darkness he’d lost the nerve to hold someone’s hand, and, at the chorus, about feeling like someone had pressed pause on their lives and now they were hitting ‘play’ and --- 

It made sense. Of course it made sense. How could it not?

Younghyun finished the second chorus, humming the last verse that didn’t have words, while Wonpil sat transfixed, hardly daring to breathe or move because surely he would fly apart with the realisation, with the ridiculous joy that brought tears to his eyes from the the sheer force of how much he was feeling. 

The song ended in a final, hopeful resolution, and Younghyun was setting down the guitar and stumbling over to Wonpil, saying _oh no, don’t cry_ because Wonpil _was_ crying, he couldn’t help it; laughing and crying now because this was a _whole song_ Younghyun had written. 

“Was it that bad,” Younghyun murmured, smiling as he moved to wipe the tears from Wonpil’s cheeks with his fingers.

“No, it was wonderful, I just --” Wonpil began. Then paused, and moved to take first Younghyun’s right hand, and then his left, damp as they were, into his own. 

“Did you mean it?” he asked, startling both Younghyun and himself with how fierce his voice sounded. “Did you --”

“Yes,” breathed Younghyun. “Every word.” 

“Oh,” said Wonpil, heart leaping in his chest. “That’s nice.” 

“Do you --” Younghyun began.

“ _Yes_ ,” said Wonpil, and watched joy and relief bloom on Younghyun’s face. 

\---

“Someone's been busy," said Jinyoung, when Wonpil finally visited the Korean Folk Village. 

Jaebeom hadn’t been able to get the day off, and so it was just Jinyoung and Wonpil wandering through the park with the general aim of ending up at the Local Government Office where Jaebeom was currently stationed. In the intervening weeks, Jaebeom had apparently been promoted (or demoted, depending on how one looked at it) from Magistrate of the Afterlife to a regular living magistrate, which largely just meant that he could stop wearing ghostly makeup and didn’t have to laugh imposingly every time visitors approached him.

Hyunjin, in the meantime, had apparently been tasked to play the bridegroom in the _yangban_ marriage ceremony that took place twice a day at the courtyard of the Nobleman’s Mansion. The rest of his time was spent b-boying to traditional music with Jaebeom’s troupe, and wandering the grounds dressed as a scholar so visitors could take pictures with him. 

All of which seemed a far nicer gig than the one he’d left Wonpil. The traitor. 

“I just want to _talk to_ Hyunjinnie,” said Wonpil, making no effort to sound less threatening. 

“Sir, please know that we take abuse of our cast members very seriously,” Jinyoung said, and looped his arm through Wonpil’s in an attempt to guide him in the opposite direction of Nobleman’s Mansion. 

“I don’t plan to abuse him,” Wonpil protested, “I plan to intimidate him a little and if that fails, to haunt him with guilt.” 

“But seriously,” said Jinyoung, not to be distracted by Wonpil’s plans in respect of the _hoobae_ that Jinyoung had poached, “I can’t believe it’s been two weeks since he tearfully confessed his love for you through song and you _haven’t_ ended up canoodling in the creepy doll park.” He paused, and glared. “Or canoodling _at all_. And don’t try to tell me that Kang Younghyun doesn’t know about the doll park, because if he knows about how to get into flipping _Penguin Island_ \--”

“First of all, I think I was the only one crying,” said Wonpil. “Second, which part of _the creepy doll park is creepy_ do you not understand,” he continued. “Thirdly and finally, have you never heard of just taking things slow?” 

“There’s slow,” Jinyoung replied, “and then there’s only ever holding hands under the table while making eyes at each other.”

Wonpil stared. “You can’t possibly know that.”

It was true that after that night -- after Wonpil and Younghyun had parted ways and Wonpil had stumbled back into his room like a man drunk; grinning like a fool, climbing on top of Dowoon (who was lying, blanket-less on his mattress by Jae and Wonpil’s bunk bed), to give him delirious cuddle; springing away at Dowoon’s yelp of, _too warm, hyung!_ while Jae sat up in the lower bunk and stared -- well. Nothing much else had changed. 

They all still went down to breakfast as a group, except now sometimes Younghyun and Wonpil would trail behind the other three so Younghyun could quickly curl his arm around Wonpil’s shoulders and ask how he’d slept, leaning in so close that sometimes his nose would brush Wonpil’s hair. And Wonpil would mumble a reply, heart fluttering so hard it was a miracle he made it to the breakfast hall with a straight face. And on the days when Younghyun’s shift ended earlier he would come by and linger by the ‘Cast Only’ shed and while Wonpil de-bombed himself, helping to fetch the makeup remover wipes and put the ridiculous bomb head back into its cubby. And maybe he’d take Wonpil’s hand while they were making their way back, and they’d lean into each other a little, elbows bumping, fingers interlaced. 

But they hadn’t done much else, even though there had been moments when Wonpil _thought_ that something might happen. Like that time they had been packing up at the end of practice and Wonpil had ducked behind a row of shelves to put away some cables, only to walk directly into Younghyun, who had been stowing away one of the practice amps. Younghyun had grabbed Wonpil’s arm to steady him, and for a long moment they had stood frozen like that, faces inches apart, Wonpil’s pulse thundering in his ears. Then Jae had grumbled something about storing the stompbox pedal and Younghyun had pulled back, choosing instead to take the cables that were sagging in Wonpil’s arms. 

“I have my sources,” said Jinyoung smugly. 

“This is an invasion of privacy,” Wonpil sulked, privately resolving to root out this spy ring Jinyoung presumably still maintained among the Everland _hoobae_. “And it’s not like we have a lot of free time. There’s the Cast Festival audition coming up.” 

Jinyoung rolled his eyes. “The auditions are a formality,” he said, having given an extremely well-received performance of _Bounce_ at last year’s festival after being begged to do so for three solid months by the Festival committee. 

“Maybe for you,” said Wonpil mournfully. Because there were apparently already so many competent dance or singing groups vying for spots, the committee would need convincing to yield one precious segment to a _band_ , onerous set-up and all. Even Younghyun agreeing to lead a mass dance of the Amazon Express welcome ceremony had only marginally improved their prospects.

“Look,” said Jinyoung, as they passed a small crowd of visitors who were watching three children dressed in kiddy _hanbok_ push a millstone. “The way I see it, he probably wants you to be comfortable moving at whatever glacial pace _you_ choose. Which, I mean, is lovely and all but...” 

He paused, and seized Wonpil by the shoulders. The look on his face was deathly, almost comically serious. 

“Yah--” Wonpil began, startled.

“ _Yah_ , Kim Wonpil.” Jinyoung gave him a little shake. “Just enjoy your youth, all right?”

And then he seemed to remember himself, and let go of Wonpil, looking somewhat embarrassed. “I mean, you of all people deserve to,” he mumbled.

Wonpil watched Jinyoung turn away and kick idly at a stray pebble on the path, and felt a sudden surge of fondness. It had been Jinyoung, after all, who’d stuck his hand out stiffly to introduce himself, the first time they’d met in some JYP practice room; who’d coached Wonpil through dance steps in the wee hours of countless nights; who’d talked back to one of the instructors at monthly evaluations when they’d insinuated that maybe Wonpil wasn’t a good fit. 

And it had been Jinyoung who had steadfastly told Wonpil to hold on and chin up, all the way through their trainee years until one day, in those last months, he’d finally hugged a crying Wonpil and said: “Pilie-ah, I think this is killing you and you should stop.” 

They weren’t the type to _say things_ to each other, and Jinyoung would probably squirm out of his skin if Wonpil tried to thank him, so instead Wonpil just caught up with him, and linked elbows again. 

“I will, Jinyoungie,” Wonpil said firmly. 

Jinyoung looked as if he was about to say something else, but they were interrupted then by the entrance of one of Jinyoung’s coworkers, a tall fellow named Yugyeom who had landed the lucrative role of village beggar. 

“Spare a little change, friend of Jinyoung-hyung,” said Yugyeom, holding out his collection bowl.

While Wonpil fumbled in his pocket for his wallet, Jinyoung reached over and plucked three one thousand won notes from Yugyeom’s earnings. 

“ _Hyung_!” Yugyeom cried, snatching his bowl away before Jinyoung could steal some more. 

“I need to buy my friend some glutinous rice taffy,” said Jinyoung, darting out of Yugyeom’s reach. 

“ _Eomma_!” screamed a nearby child. “Those men are robbing the beggar _ajusshi_!” 

There was a moment of stunned silence as they turned towards the child, who was near tears as she pointed accusingly at Jinyoung and Wonpil.

“Quick,” Wonpil cried, all of his visitor experience training kicking in, and grabbed hold of Jinyoung. “Someone call the Magistrate!” 

“Not the _Magistrate_ ,” said Jinyoung, in delighted horror, twisting in Wonpil’s grip while Yugyeom doubled over with laughter. “What if he _punishes me_.” 

“It’s what you deserve!” shouted Yugyeom, plucking the taffy money out of Jinyoung’s grubbing hands and waving them gratefully at the little girl, whose eyes had grown very round. “Thank you, fair lady!” he hollered, as the girl’s mother ran over to her.

“Will the Magistrate _punish me_ with his _stick_ ,” gasped Jinyoung in decidedly not child-friendly tones. 

“ _You are the worst_ ,” Wonpil hissed as he dragged Jinyoung off, Yugyeom prancing after them with vengeful glee.

But he did think about what Jinyoung had said, and, when he arrived back at Jeondae Everland subway station to find Younghyun waiting for him by the turnstile, mustered up all of his courage to take Younghyun's hand and lean in to kiss him on the cheek. 

"Oh," Younghyun said, blinking in surprise. " _Oh_." 

"Hyung," said Wonpil, "let's go somewhere nice on our next day off."

And then he'd all but skipped off, heart pounding but triumphant, tugging a stunned Younghyun along in his wake.

\---

By some quirk in scheduling (read: Wonpil persuading Seungmin to switch shifts), the next time their days off coincided was the following week, on a slightly overcast Tuesday. 

“I have someplace in mind,” was all Younghyun had told Wonpil beforehand, and so it was only when they were boarding the shuttle bus marked for the Ho-Am Art Museum that Wonpil realised where they were going. 

“Oh,” he said, clapping his hands to his mouth. “Changbin told me about it. He said the gardens are particularly lovely.”

“Why was Changbin telling you about places of interest?” asked Younghyun, as he found a pair of empty seats near the back of the bus and slid in.

Wonpil sat down beside him. “It just came up while we were waiting between parades,” he said, trying not to sound shifty. “He’s from Yongin, after all.” 

“Kim Wonpil-sshi,” said Younghyun, with a smile playing on his lips, “were you doing _research_?”

“No -- well, _maybe_ ,” Wonpil replied defensively. “Hyung shouldn’t be the only one having to plan things.”

“Oh, and he’s considerate,” said Younghyun, grinning as he took Wonpil’s hand. “I’m a fortunate man.” 

Wonpil frowned, which only made Younghyun’s grin widen, and he didn’t let go of Wonpil even when a group of (possibly Taiwanese) tourists filled the rest of the shuttle bus. 

In contrast to the noisy clamour of Everland at opening time, the museum -- just fifteen minutes away by shuttle -- seemed like a totally different world as they passed through the main gates and followed a tree-lined path into the sprawling traditional garden. Instead of Everland’s hypersaturated colours they were treated to a palette of warm greys and browns and verdant green, to trees standing in gorgeous silence and weathered stone figures lingering in the groves. 

While the other tourists trudged ahead, eager to locate the museum building at the northern end of the grounds, Wonpil and Younghyun wandered around in the main garden, watching the wild peacocks pick their way across the lawn. 

“The weather’s too good to waste indoors,” said Wonpil, gazing up at the sky -- which had cleared up considerably since earlier that morning, when Jae had handed Wonpil an umbrella after dourly reading out the weather forecast on his phone. “Maybe we should just explore?” 

“I didn’t really come here for the art, to be honest,” replied Younghyun, sounding somewhat relieved. “I _was_ prepared to pretend to look very interested, though.” 

Wonpil laughed. “Thank you for your honesty,” he said, in his best serious voice. 

“You’re most welcome,” Younghyun replied gravely.

They continued along, stopping at various pavilions to read the tiny signs explaining exactly how each feature contributed to the perfect balance of yin and yang. Or rather Wonpil read them, and then looked up just in time to catch Younghyun studying Wonpil’s face instead. 

“Stop staring, hyung, you see me all the time,” said Wonpil, the third time this happened. 

“Not like this,” Younghyun replied. 

“Oh, you mean not wearing a bomb mascot head that has a hole cut out so children can still super-soaker me in the face?” 

Younghyun laughed. “I mean, yes, that too,” he said, “but also… relaxed, I guess. Happy.” 

“Of course I’m happy, hyung,” said Wonpil, turning towards Younghyun and experiencing an abrupt sense of unreality that he was _here_ , with Younghyun, uncomplicatedly on a date. “I’m learning so much all about the classical Korean art of landscaping,” he added, because he didn’t know if he was quite ready for Younghyun to see how stupidly much Wonpil liked him. 

“Of course,” Younghyun repeated, giving Wonpil a thoughtful look. 

They hadn’t spent time alone like this before, not really, apart from the night they’d snuck into Penguin Island, so many weeks before. At Everland and in the Cast House there were always people on the periphery: the other three at band practice, or Wonpil’s enthusiastic fellow bomb parade _hoobae_ , or the general cluster of Younghyun’s Amazon Express teammates who, when they were not performing the terrible welcome ceremony dance, each seemed to radiate a slightly intimidating air of coolness. 

The night before, Wonpil had lain awake in bed worrying about what they would do with so many hours of just the two of them. Then Jae had nudged the bottom of Wonpil’s bunk with his foot because apparently Wonpil had been sighing too much, and Wonpil had fallen asleep while trying to worry more quietly. 

He shouldn’t have been worried, Wonpil now realised. Because it was the easiest thing in the world, just strolling along with Younghyun, idly talking about whatever came to mind. Younghyun had band stories, and business school stories, and moving to Canada and then back to Korea stories (which, Wonpil privately noted, explained why he sometimes spoke with Jae fluently and easily in English). Wonpil, in turn, had Jinyoung stories (including the dramatic ups and downs of his now mostly stable relationship with one Im Jaebeom, whom Jinyoung had met on some ridiculous reality show about youth dance-offs), and helping his _eomma_ at the piano academy stories. 

And trainee stories, too. But not in the way that Wonpil usually told them, repackaged into something wry and self-deprecating and funny. On a bench by the lotus pond he told Younghyun about how he’d auditioned, how incredibly happy he’d been to get in. And then the long, hopeful years of training and trying, and how near the end it had felt almost like an inversion of his first year, because in place of the vast expanse of possibility ahead of him, there was only the fear of what would happen if he _didn’t_ get it, if he had put in all that work and had no debut to show for it. 

“The scary part was that I couldn’t see beyond it,” said Wonpil, looking out at the lotus leaves jostling above the surface of the water. “I literally couldn’t imagine what I’d do if I didn’t debut.” He paused. “And trying to -- to sing and dance and _perform_ while being in such a dark place…”

“You must have been terrified,” Younghyun murmured. “I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s been years,” said Wonpil, feeling horrified at the tears stinging his eyes. “Honestly, it’s stupid that I’ve not gotten over this.”

“It’s _not_ ,” replied Younghyun. “Look, it’s something you loved doing. That you still love doing. To have had to walk away from that… I can’t imagine how it felt.” 

“Oh, goodness,” said Wonpil, trying to blink away his tears. “I’m a mess. It’s a beautiful day and I’m here with _you_ and I’m just sitting here blubbering --”

“Wonpil-ah,” said Younghyun, so gently that he startled Wonpil into turning towards him. And then Wonpil caught sight of the expression on Younghyun’s face, so tender and so serious, and felt his breath catch in his throat. “It’s very precious to me that you’re telling me about this.” 

Wonpil laughed, wetly. “You should be honoured.”

“I am,” Younghyun replied, still earnest, and Wonpil could hear his own pulse thudding in his ears. “And if I could go back in time and meet a younger Kim Wonpil-sshi, I’d tell him…”

“You’d tell him, ‘Run! Run away!’” Wonpil deadpanned. 

“I’d tell him,” said Younghyun, “that there’s nothing lovelier than the way his face lights up when he’s playing music.” 

There was a long moment in which Wonpil felt as if he was experiencing just the drop portion of a drop tower, freefall whooshing and all. 

And then, still feeling somewhat unsteady, he opened his mouth to speak. “Why do I feel somehow jealous of my younger self,” he murmured, ducking his head. 

“You shouldn’t be,” Younghyun replied. “I am, after all, very fond of the present you.”

Wonpil lifted his head to look at Younghyun, to take in the warmth of his gaze; the soft and unguarded way that he smiled. It still stunned Wonpil, after three or so weeks, that he could have _this_ ; that something he had said or done could have caused this expression on Younghyun’s face. 

He couldn’t have imagined it, and yet, somehow, here Younghyun was. 

“You’re right,” said Wonpil, “I shouldn’t be jealous.” 

Younghyun shook his head and smiled.

“After all,” Wonpil continued, “my younger self couldn’t do _this_.” 

He leaned in close and pressed a kiss against the corner of Younghyun’s mouth, brief and hesitant. 

“Sorry,” he said, jerking back. “I meant to, uh -- aim better --”

But it didn’t matter, because Younghyun was closing the distance between them now, cupping a hand against the side of Wonpil’s jaw and kissing back sweet and soft.   
_  
Oh_ , thought Wonpil, and maybe he’d said it aloud against Younghyun’s lips because he could feel Younghyun huff a laugh. 

Younghyun pulled away after a moment, his face still inches from Wonpil’s. 

“Pilie-ah,” he murmured, eyes bright, gently brushing his thumb against Wonpil’s chin, “you really didn’t come here for the art either, did you?” 

“Speak for yourself,” Wonpil retorted, and leaned in again for another kiss.

\---

“You two look like you had fun,” said Jae, traipsing into the storage room with Dowoon in tow.

“Thanks for the umbrella, Jaehyung-hyung,” Wonpil told him.

The weather had continued to hold up, long enough that they had been able to finish exploring the gardens and make their way along the bank of the lake that lay to the south of the museum building. There, various groups of college students and families had come armed with picnic mats and lunch, all the better to enjoy the view of the lush mountains across the lake. 

Younghyun, as it turned out, had been equally prepared, producing a mat of his own and two boxes of _kimbap_ he’d somehow managed to beg off the breakfast hall kitchen. 

“Someone did his research,” Wonpil had remarked, impressed, as they’d settled on a reasonably private spot some distance from what appeared to be the Yongin University judo team (judging from their jerseys). 

The lake had been still and beautiful, the _kimbap_ excellent, and their spot (under some trees and shielded by some shrubbery) perfectly shaded and perfect also for stealing more kisses out of sight from any passers-by. 

“Pilie-ah, aren’t you hungry,” Younghyun had murmured, the second time Wonpil had interrupted Younghyun’s attempt at opening the _kimbap_ to peck him on the lips, successfully distracting him into something longer and more involved. 

“Not really,” Wonpil had replied, leaning back on his elbows, in a voice so sincere that Younghyun had laughed. 

“There’s plenty of time,” Younghyun had told him, retrieving a thermos of cold barley tea. 

And so they’d stopped to have lunch, accompanied, unexpectedly, by sounds of the college students’ music, which had been playing off a portable speaker. It hadn’t been unpleasant; just a playlist of latest hits for the summer, except that whoever had been in charge of the music had also seemed very partial to _Despacito_. 

"I know it's a catchy song," Younghyun had groaned, the fifth time the guitar introduction had started up, "but really?"

Wonpil had just giggled, and had tilted his face towards Younghyun to see if they could kiss each other breathless again. Younghyun had obliged, having regained his strength after inhaling a good amount of _kimbap_ , and they’d kissed stickily, Younghyun resting sideways on one elbow and Wonpil pressing closer to him, chasing Younghyun’s mouth as Younghyun rolled onto his back. They had ended up with Wonpil lying half on top of Younghyun, the thump of his heart knocking against Wonpil’s chest, kisses turned gentle and lazy after Wonpil had felt himself truly get a bit light-headed. 

“Good,” Younghyun had muttered, as Justin Bieber sang the title of the song for the last time, and silence followed. “Please, _please_ play something else.”

There was a pause, in which Wonpil felt hopeful on Younghyun's behalf.

And then: the opening guitar riff again.

“ _Unbelievable_ ,” Younghyun had exploded, while Wonpil had laughed so hard he’d rolled off Younghyun and landed on the mat. 

Fortuitously, they’d been saved from a seventh replay of _Despacito_ by the return of some very ominous dark clouds, and had spent the rest of the rainy afternoon indoors (with the art, which was, by Younghyun’s admission, not as boring as he had anticipated) before taking the last shuttle bus back to Everland. And then they’d spent the rest of the time before dinner huddled up in Younghyun’s bed listening to Younghyun’s playlists while the rain outside continued steady and heavily. 

“Where’s Sungjin-hyung anyway?” asked Wonpil, fiddling now with the settings on his keyboard to stop himself from catching Younghyun’s eye and smiling like an idiot. 

“He was talking to someone from the Cast Festival committee about our set up for the audition this Friday,” said Dowoon. 

They had, over the weekend, narrowed down their song choices for the audition to either _Fix You_ or _Castle on the Hill_ , with Wonpil personally more partial to the former because he loved the way Sungjin, Jae, and Younghyun’s voices came together on the bridge; the overwhelming cascade of sound as they built up towards the stripped-down last chorus. Jae’s point, however, had been that they might do better with something that had just come out earlier that year, and was a bit more of a foot stomper. 

(“I stomp my foot to _Fix You_ ,” Dowoon had said.

“You stomp your foot to almost everything,” Younghyun had pointed out.)

But the ongoing debate over which song to pick quickly became moot when Sungjin arrived with some bad news.

“The committee didn’t get the main meeting hall for the auditions because the recruitment interviews are going to be held there,” said Sungjin. “So they’ll be held in the Cast Lounge.”

“Well, will they let us come in early to set up?” asked Younghyun. 

Sungjin shook his head. “They’d prefer if we came in and out quickly, and asked if we could audition with a cajon and either a guitar or keyboard only.” 

“Oh, but --” Wonpil began. 

“Both the songs we've picked are going to sound very different," said Dowoon, voicing Wonpil's thoughts.

"Well, the auditions are only three days away," said Sungjin. "I don't see us having much of a choice."

And so they tried both songs, first with Jae on the guitar and then again with Wonpil playing accompaniment. 

"To be perfectly honest," said Jae, who rarely wasn't, "they both sound kind of…" he waved a hand and made a face.

"Predictable?" Younghyun offered as a viable translation.

Sungjin sighed, and nodded. "All right. If you were watching five groups in a row dancing to _Ko Ko Bop_ and _Red Flavour_ ," he said, demonstrating impressive knowledge of the hits of that summer, "what would you want to hear from a _band_?"

There was a pause as everyone contemplated this. 

"Something unexpected," said Jae. "But still, you know, catchy. And which doesn't need all that much instrumentation."

Wonpil glanced over at Younghyun, who was absently rubbing his bottom lip as he thought, and was reminded, suddenly, of how Younghyun's mouth had felt against his earlier that day by the lake, and --

" _Oh_ ," said Wonpil, clapping his hands together. 

"What is it?" asked Younghyun. 

"Give me a moment to figure this out," he mumbled, turning to his keyboard and working through a quick series of chords, giggling as he did so because of how ludicrous it was, and yet, perhaps, it _could_ work -- he could hear in his head how it would sound.

"Okay," said Wonpil, not looking up at the rest of them so as not to lose his nerve. "Hyung don't be mad at me," he muttered more quietly.

And then he played a minor key broken chord, took a deep breath, and started to sing.

He didn't know the words, so he just na na na-ed the melody, trying his best instead to bring across how he thought it would sound if Jae and Sungjin and Younghyun were singing each part -- the controlled roughness of Sungjin's voice; Jae's smooth like smoke; and Younghyun's, a soaring clear thing. 

"Is that _Despacito_?" Jae burst out, the same time Younghyun barked a surprised laugh.

Wonpil nodded, and then was too overwhelmed by giggles to keep singing as he played, except it didn't matter because Jae was now launching into the melody with what sounded like the actual lyrics, and Dowoon was tapping out a beat on the drums.

Younghyun was laughing, or maybe he was crying -- it was hard to tell -- but he joined in with gusto on the second verse, harmonising perfectly with Jae for several lines before letting Sungjin take over (' _this is how we do it down in Puerto Rico_ ' being the only lyric he seemed to know apart from the title of the song). 

After the final _'despacito_ ', courtesy of Jae, Younghyun turned to Wonpil.

"Your _mind_ ," he said, grinning even as he shook his head. 

"I like it," said Dowoon, with an approving foot stomp. Sungjin, too, nodded.

"What _I_ want to know, though," said Jae, putting his hands on his hips and peering at Wonpil like a very stern pigeon, "is why you've been hiding that voice of yours from the rest of us."

\---

And so it was that their still as-yet-unnamed band came to perform a cover of _Despacito_ at their audition for the 2017 Cast Festival.

It was possible that, out of the five of them, Wonpil might in fact have had the most experience with auditions; with walking out to stand in front of evaluation panels in rooms that were invariably either too warm or too cold. Having to swallow down his nerves and to try to pull from within himself that precious energy; that thing people called his _spark_ , which had apparently set him apart enough from the rest of the candidates at his audition, but which he had discovered, over the course of months and years, to be somewhat of a finite resource. 

This was totally different, Wonpil reminded himself as they entered the Cast Lounge. For one thing, the panel in this case was simply a committee of senior cast members, and the stakes -- well. It would be disappointing, of course, not to get onto the lineup after so many weeks of practice, but there wasn’t the suffocating fear of not knowing what he’d do if that happened. 

For another thing, the audience waiting for them in the Cast Lounge wasn’t a group of fellow trainees all equally vying for the same thing, but a random assortment of cast members who’d finished their own items and were happy to hang around and enjoy the rest of the performances. Nobody would be mentally keeping score of a voice faltering, or silently judging how precisely someone was following the beat as they danced. Seungmin and Changbin had even made a _sign_ out of the back of a styrofoam box lid, bless them. 

And, most importantly, it wasn’t Wonpil walking into that room alone, but all five of them; Dowoon clutching the cajon to his chest while Younghyun and Sungjin carried the keyboard and stand between them, Jae with the microphones and Wonpil bringing up the rear with the microphone stand and some cables. 

While Sungjin and Jae introduced the group, Wonpil took the moment to shut his eyes. This would be fine. He would play, and sing the harmony to the bridge together with Younghyun, and then this would be over and they would all go for a drink. 

Then he opened them, and saw Younghyun, who was standing in front of Wonpil with his back to the room as he fixed Wonpil’s microphone.

“Are you okay?” Younghyun said quietly.

Wonpil felt something in his heart lift, and he nodded. 

Then Younghyun was stepping away, and the four of them were glancing at Wonpil, and there was nothing to do but play. 

As Sungjin sang the first lines of the song and it became clear exactly what it was that was being played, an anticipatory sort of hush fell over the room. Then Dowoon came in on the cajon, light as rain, followed by Jae and Younghyun, taking turns to sing the second verse in Spanish, which elicited some impressed gasps. 

Then Wonpil cut off his chord the same time that Jae came in with ‘ _Despacito_ ’ -- and this, this was the turning point: unbidden, the audience erupted in whoops and cheers for several beats, before falling quiet and attentive again. The change in their energy was palpable, and Wonpil didn’t even have to look up to know that they were swaying along to the pulse of the music, led along by the pulling and cresting of Jae and Younghyun and Sungjin’s lines; Dowoon and Wonpil’s steady rhythms. 

Wonpil lost himself in the music, his fingers moving without him bidding them to, and when it was his turn to sing the bridge, first in unison with Jae and then in harmony with Younghyun, he didn’t think, didn’t second guess, didn’t even hesitate.

He just sang, because the music called for it, because it was the easiest thing in the world to fit his voice into the slipstream of Younghyun’s. He sang, and he wasn’t afraid. 

When the song ended, the cheering and applause was deafening. Wonpil looked over to Younghyun, beaming, and realised, only after seeing the slight frown on Younghyun’s face, that his cheeks were wet with tears. 

\---

"Drinks," said Sungjin, after they'd managed to actually leave the Cast Lounge with their instruments after being stopped by every other person to be congratulated; after they'd trooped back down to the basement to put back their instruments and equipment; after Younghyun had caught Wonpil's wrist as the others were going into the storage room, and had made Wonpil put down the box of microphones so that he could draw Wonpil into the warmest hug imaginable. 

Wonpil had buried his face in Younghyun's shoulder for several seconds, breathing the scent of his t-shirt, blinking his tears against the soft fabric, feeling one of Younghyun's hands resting heavy between his shoulder blades, the other curled lightly against the small of his back. 

Then there had been the sound of the door opening, and Jae's voice going, "Where are the micro -- _oh_."

They had sprung apart at that, and Wonpil, upon catching sight of the look on Jae's face, had felt an uncontrollable laugh bubble up from his chest. 

"I saw nothing," Jae had declared, seemingly caught between reaching for the box on the floor and making a hasty exit. 

"It was just a hug, hyung," Wonpil had giggled.

And then, in a moment of pure impulse, he had sprung over to Jae to engulf him in the tightest embrace he could manage.

"What are you--" Jae had exclaimed, before the breath had been squeezed from him. 

Wonpil had taken this opportunity to kiss him on the cheek. 

While Jae had regained enough air to start yelling, and Younghyun had still been wheezing with shocked laughter, Wonpil had darted into the storage room and found his next quarry, an unsuspecting Sungjin who had been crouched on the floor arranging cables. 

The bellow he had emitted when Wonpil had landed on his back had been truly impressive, as had been his yelp of surprise at being pecked on the temple. 

Before he could even try to throw Wonpil off, Wonpil had leapt back up and headed straight for Dowoon, who had simply succumbed to Wonpil's embrace and cheek kisses (two for Dowoonie, who was truly the cutest) with a perturbed, "Hyung are you okay?"

"Stop him!" Jae had cried, bursting back into the room. "He's a smooch monster!"

"What on earth is going on," Sungjin had groaned, trying to swipe away all traces of the kiss from the side of his face. 

Wonpil had paused, and looked round at all of them with shining eyes. 

"I think he's very moved," Younghyun had remarked quietly, with considerable amusement in his voice. 

"Hyung, you're standing on my shoelace," Dowoon had pointed out to Wonpil after a pause.

Then they'd packed up and traipsed out to Jeongdae-ri for drinks, at the same place outside which Younghyun had asked Wonpil for his number. 

“Well,” said Sungjin, after he’d read out a text message from the committee informing them that they would be playing at Cast Festival in three weeks, and would be allowed their full setup, “I think this calls for some _samgyeopsal_.”

So they had meat, and drinks, and, among other things, debated the merits of arranging a band cover of the Amazon Express welcome ceremony as one of their three songs. 

“ _Three songs_ ,” Wonpil marvelled.

“It makes sense, I guess,” said Jae, “since they would have gone through the trouble of getting us set up.” 

“Yeah,” agreed Younghyun, eating a kimchi-wrapped piece of mushroom while moving to hold Wonpil’s free hand under the table. 

Wonpil glanced over at Younghyun, who was chewing impassively, and gave his hand an answering squeeze. 

“Wow,” said Dowoon. “I can’t believe we’ll really be playing.” 

“I was thinking, actually,” said Sungjin, “about whether, after the Cast Festival, we might want to play other gigs.”

“I’d like to,” said Dowoon with a shrug.

“Why not?” Younghyun said, looking over at Wonpil, who nodded. 

“We still don’t have a band name,” Jae pointed out. But he didn’t say no, which suggested he was interested. 

They drank to that, and then drank some more, enough that Jae began to nod off and Sungjin started singing along to whatever song was playing in the background, while Dowoon launched into an unstoppable ramble about playing the drums. 

Amidst all of this, Younghyun, who had matched Sungjin shot for shot, turned to Wonpil, who had been far more prudent, and said: “You kissed everyone else except me.” 

Wonpil laughed, and then immediately felt bad when he saw the genuinely, drunkenly sad look on Younghyun’s face. 

“Those were friendship kisses, Younghyunie-hyung,” he murmured. 

“You kissed. Everyone,” Younghyun repeated, blinking slowly. He really was far gone, Wonpil realised, based on the way he was trying to rest an elbow against the table but kept slipping off. And _still_ he was holding Wonpil’s right hand, never mind that both their palms were getting damp with sweat (it was probably just as well that Wonpil hadn’t planned on eating any more food). 

It was, also, probably for the best that everyone else was pretty drunk themselves, because that made it far easier for Wonpil to lean over and kiss Younghyun on the cheek. 

“There,” said Wonpil. 

“Thank you,” said Younghyun gravely. For a long moment he just studied Wonpil’s face as if it was some important discovery he had just stumbled upon. It was probably only because Wonpil himself had had a few drinks that he didn’t look away, but rested his own elbow far more stably against the table and gazed back. 

“Wonpil-ah,” Younghyun said, finally. “I like everything about you, Wonpil-ah.” 

“Okay, hyung,” said Wonpil, feeling his ears grow warm, thinking about how he’d very much like to non-friendship kiss Younghyun. “I like everything about you too.” 

In the middle of dozing off on Dowoon’s shoulder, Jae jerked awake. 

“ _Ma’am_ ,” he said in English and in what Wonpil recognised to be his firm customer service chaos-at-the-gift-shop tone, “ _they are in love_.” 

“Jaehyung-hyung is very drunk,” said Dowoon, patting Jae’s face and getting his hand swatted away in response. 

“I will take all of you home,” announced Sungjin very responsibly, despite not being in possession of any vehicle and being somewhat drunk himself. But he still very gallantly carried Jae on his back while Dowoon meandered beside them, pointing out potential obstacles such as traffic cones and bits of paper on the ground. 

Behind them, Wonpil led a marginally more steady Younghyun by the hand, but made much worse progress on account of Younghyun insisting on embracing Wonpil under the streetlights. 

“Hyung,” Wonpil whined, after the third streetlight and fifth forehead kiss. “We need to get back.”

“Why,” mumbled Younghyun.

“Because it’s late and we have to work tomorrow,” Wonpil replied, trying and failing to wriggle from Younghyun’s arms. “ _Hyung_.” 

“Work,” Younghyun repeated mournfully, looking as regretful about his shift tomorrow as Wonpil felt. Then he buried his face in Wonpil’s neck, and mumbled, “You’re the best part. Of work. Do you know that Wonpilie?” 

“I thought the best part of work was the _tangsuyuk_ special,” said Wonpil, even as his heart very certainly skipped a beat. 

“I’m so glad you’re here, Wonpilie,” Younghyun continued, arms tightening around Wonpil. “ _So glad_.”

Wonpil thought back over the past months to the start of summer, to how he’d come to Everland with no expectations except for the time to pass. Yet somehow, along the way, he’d stumbled into something -- the band, their music; an inkling of a dream. And also, this: 

Kang Younghyun under a streetlight, lifting his head to look at Wonpil with honest clarity, that secret little smile of his no longer quite so secret. 

Wonpil smiled back. “So am I, hyung.” 

\---

The Cast Festival took place three weeks later, late enough in summer that the nights had turned from unbearable to balmy. A low, large stage had been set up in the courtyard between the two blocks of the Cast House, where residents of the Cast House and various cast members who didn’t live on-site were now gathered. 

Probably for logistical reasons, the band had been placed at the end of the lineup, after a dance performance by a group that included Seungmin and Changbin. This did not help with the pressure at all, given that the Seungmin and Friends performance was a very impressive dance routine to a medley of “all the songs that drove you mad this summer”.

But whatever pressure Wonpil felt was a different creature from the clawing panic he’d been so afraid of before, Wonpil realised, as they waited just a little way off from the main crowd, in the area the committee had marked out for performers. It felt more like a restlessness, an itch in his limbs and chest that demanded action. Like he _wanted_ to play, and sing, to answer again and again the question of whether he could.

“Oh, it’s Younghyun-hyung’s turn,” said Dowoon, elbowing Wonpil, who hadn’t been paying attention to the little introductory spiel that Bang Chan and Sana had been doing. 

Cheers rose from the audience as Younghyun and twenty or so cast members from the Amazon Express team went onstage. 

“Hello,” said Younghyun, to whoops and scattered applause. “We were told you were in need of some warming up.”

“Where are your fox ears!” someone shouted. 

“ _JEONGYEON!_ ” someone else bellowed. Further down the front row, Jeongyeon made a heart shape with her arms.

“I’d ask for everyone to calm down,” Younghyun continued, and then paused to pull out a ridiculous pair of sunglasses. “But that’s not why we’re here, is it?” 

And then the Amazon Express music began, and everyone started dancing, shouting along with Younghyun as he went through the safety rap, and then the first verse of the song. Behind them, the stage lights lit the entire group in blues and purples, flashing wildly in time to the techno beats. Younghyun seemed almost to glow under them as he launched himself through the steps, singing with perfect, energetic control.

Even Sungjin and Jae were dancing, apparently having absorbed most of the moves by osmosis during their time at Everland. Next to Wonpil, Dowoon bobbed along happily, clapping his hands in time to the beat.

Bang Chan, who did the safety rap whenever Younghyun wasn’t on shift, took the second verse, before they transitioned directly into the finale dance, which had been jazzed up by Felix and Minho doing actual backflips behind Younghyun. 

With the audience suitably warmed up, the programme moved swiftly on, to several other dance performances interspersed with a _Gag Concert_ -style skit about life at Everland, which also included a musical interlude in which the group sang a song about visitor experience training set to the tune of _Sorry Sorry_. By this time Younghyun had returned to their corner of the courtyard, slipping in beside Wonpil. 

Then Seungmin and friends were up, and one of the super-seniors on the committee was gesturing for the band to stand by.

“Let’s just have fun, all right?” said Sungjin, as they huddled together by the stage. 

"I feel like I'm about to ride the T-express," said Jae, while onstage, the group was executing a very synchronised and enthusiastic Worm. 

“Do you want me to hold your hand, hyung,” said Dowoon, who was turning out to be a babbler when nervous, earning himself a swat on the brim of his cap.

Wonpil, in the meantime, turned towards Younghyun, who had shoved his palm tree sunglasses up on top of his head. 

_Thank you_ , he wanted to say, but it didn’t seem quite the moment to say it. So instead he reached over and plucked the sunglasses from Younghyun’s head. 

“For luck,” said Wonpil, putting them on, watching the world dim to just the sound of Younghyun’s laugh. 

“Oh goodness,” he added, yanking them off almost immediately. “How does anyone wear these in the dark?” 

“They don’t,” Younghyun replied, and helped nestle them atop Wonpil’s head. 

The final chorus of _Ko Ko Bop_ ended just then, and while Seungmin and friends took their bows, the five of them and a few committee members scrambled onstage to put everything in place, moving microphones and instruments forward from where they’d been placed upstage for most of the evening. 

Then, once they had been all set up and Sungjin had said some perfunctory introduction, Wonpil played the first opening chords that launched them into _Castle on the Hill_ , and they were off.

The song seemed to fly by, with no time to think between one driving beat and the next. All Wonpil knew was the thrum and pulse of the music, and the incredible energy that seemed to surge from their audience. While in rehearsals he’d been self-conscious about the verse he’d agreed to sing, now the words just rose out of his lungs into melody with an ease he hadn’t experienced in years. 

He was grinning; they were all grinning, even as they segued into the second song, _Younghyun’s_ song, the one he’d sung for Wonpil in the practice room which Wonpil had persuaded Younghyun to share with the others, and which had blossomed into something even more beautiful and layered through the combined efforts of all five of them. And while it was unfamiliar to the audience, they still gamely swayed to it, picking up enough of the chorus to sing along. 

Then, finally, Wonpil was playing the opening chords of _Fix You_ , squinting out at the crowd who were now holding up their phones like light sticks and who went on to sing every word. He lost himself in the waves upon waves of sound as they built up to the bridge, which he sang in harmony with Younghyun and Sungjin, the blend of their voices a miraculous pleasure over Jae’s guitar riff. 

And amidst the storm of it all, Wonpil shut his eyes and tried to commit all of it to memory: the sweetness of it; the electricity; the smell of the air that night; Dowoon’s voice steady and honest as he sang the last lines accompanied only by Wonpil. 

The final notes gave way to silence. Then, a second later: an eruption of applause.

They stood there for several moments, exchanging looks of surprise as the cheers coalesced into a steady chant for an encore. 

“ _What do we do_?” hissed Dowoon, as the chanting continued. 

“I guess,” said Sungjin, “we could do _that_.” 

“I suppose,” said Younghyun. 

Jae shrugged. “I mean what the heck, right?” 

Wonpil nodded, and slid the palm tree sunglasses down onto the bridge of his nose.

“Whenever you’re ready,” he said to Younghyun.

Younghyun raised his hands to gesture for everyone to quiet down. And then, with a tremendous grin on his face, he leaned in towards his microphone, and whispered: “ _Welcome to Express_.” 

The delighted shouting was so loud that for several seconds Wonpil was unable to even hear himself play. 

\---

"Aren't you glad I forced you to put in that application," said Jinyoung when he'd come to watch their third gig, in what was possibly the smallest live bar in Hongdae.

“You haven’t even heard us,” shouted Wonpil over the sound of applause for the band that was playing before them. 

Jinyoung said something in reply, but Wonpil was distracted then by Sungjin gesturing for him to get ready, and so Jinyoung let him go with a nod and a thumbs up. 

“Mind your head,” Sungjin was telling Jae when Wonpil elbowed his way to the front of the room. During the sound check, Jae had jumped a little too energetically and bumped the back of his head against the truly low ceiling beam just above the stage. 

Dowoon, in the meantime, was carefully unfurling the small cloth banner that he’d be hanging on the drum set, on which they had painstakingly painted the URL of their Youtube channel. 

Wonpil squeezed in beside Younghyun and caught his arm.

“Did you find Jinyoung?” said Younghyun, turning towards Wonpil. 

“He’s found himself a nice corner, but Jaebeom went to get drinks and may well spend the rest of the night helplessly holding out a five thousand won note,” Wonpil replied.

Younghyun laughed. 

Wonpil smiled, and slid his hand down to lace his fingers with Younghyun’s. “How are you feeling?”

“Exhausted,” said Younghyun, who had paid extra to rush over to Seoul on the shuttle bus because he’d been the only one of them who hadn’t managed to rearrange his shift that day. Earlier, Wonpil had bravely run his fingers through Younghyun’s hair in an attempt to get rid of the safari hat and fox ears indentations, but had found little success. 

“You can sleep on the train ride back,” said Wonpil. 

“If you’ve a shoulder to spare,” Younghyun replied, with a slow smile. 

Then they were up, taking their places on the slightly hazardous stage. Somewhere in the middle of the audience, Jaebeom may or may not have been attempting to make his way back to Jinyoung while balancing two beers. 

Perhaps, in the longer term, this travelling back and forth for gigs wouldn't be sustainable, even as the number of views on their performance videos continued to steadily tick upwards. Perhaps it was foolish to think of this as anything but temporary, a lovely musical chapter that would wind down as each of them invariably moved on. 

But for as long as it would last, they had this: the frisson of anticipation before every show; the palpable shift in energy as a crowd of strangers warmed up to them; the feeling of having made a connection whenever someone came up after a show to say that they’d been moved. Sometimes, Wonpil would look up in the middle of a song and make eye contact with Sungjin or Jae or Younghyun, and there would be a moment of shared disbelief, of _this is actually happening_.

Then they would make the long journey back to Everland by subway, the adrenaline still buzzing in their veins, and it would feel as if they were coming out of a dream. In the tedium of the next day’s shift Wonpil would sometimes remember, suddenly and simultaneously, both how Younghyun had looked under the stage lights, as well as the weight of him as he’d dozed against Wonpil on the way back. And then, invariably, some lost child would run up to him or a call would come in about vomit in the Cookie House, and Wonpil would take a deep breath and try to be grateful that at least it was now too cold for the Bomb Bomb Man Parade. 

But that would come later. At this present moment, however, in the crowded warmth of this Hongdae venue, the lights on them hot enough that Wonpil could feel himself starting to sweat, Sungjin was glancing round at all of them, giving them the cue, and Jae was picking out the opening riff on his guitar, Younghyun coming in to support him on the bass, and -- 

He had stopped keeping accounts of the things he liked and disliked; stopped balancing them on that invisible ledger he’d been keeping in his head. Because, really, how could he even attempt to weigh all of that up against what he loved? 

Wonpil counted into the beat before his first bar; took a breath, and sang. 

EPILOGUE

**omonatheydidnt - ANOTHER EVERBAND POST: our underground indie faves get some sweet debut promo aided by omona's beloved chaos queen Kim Min Ah**

As you know, a bunch of us here have been fighting the good fight in terms of following and posting content about underground k-indie bands in general, and particularly the gem that is **Six Days A Week** \-- fondly known by fans as Everband (because they met each other while working as cast members at Everland). In case you haven’t been following, here’s a quick recap of previous posts:

  1. Everband a.k.a. Six Days A Week a.k.a. The k-indie band you wish you had discovered earlier
  2. Top 5 Six Days A Week jams for your weekend
  3. Six Days A Week a.k.a EVERBAND bless us with Hongdae busking vlog and practice vid from a creepy storage room
  4. Omona Original: Six Days A Week, six days a week -- sweet listener encounters with Everband at Everland
  5. Six Days A Week get picked up by a label!!!!!! + every video we could find of Younghyun doing the Amazon Express dance



So anyway. In the run up to their debut album dropping, they’ve been doing their usual SNS promo but also got invited to feature on the online fashion platform Musinsa’s Youtube channel, in a series hosted by none other than omona fave Kim Min Ah (the former JTBC weather announcer who has since gone ~~rogue~~ freelance). And because I don’t know if the channel will get round to subbing it, and because I love all of you (read: BUY THE ALBUM), I thought I’d do a quick recap of what went down in the video. 

( **Collapse** )

Most of us probably know Kim Min Ah from her Workman and Loud G videos, but she also hosts a series for Musinsa TV called Office Look where she goes to the HQs of design companies to ~~accost~~ interview employees about their office fashion. This mini-series called Min Ah’s Challenge! is kind of a spin-off, in which she’s meant to apply the principles she learned through seasons 1 and 2 of Office Look by dressing special guests. In the previous 2 episodes she dressed her own stylist and an underground rapper respectively. Now she’s dressing our DIAMONDS IN THE ROUGH, Six Days A Week, for a live video performance.

The video opens at a cafe with the PD showing Min Ah videos of Six Days A Week, so that she can get a sense of their music and their style, but she’s more caught up in the injustice of the production team suddenly making her dress five people when previously she’d only dressed one per episode.

PD: they’re tall and good-looking so you probably won’t flop.  
Min Ah: then what’s the point of this show?!?!

Then she goes to meet them where they’re just waiting for her at a bus stop (?? this is too cute) outside their label’s office building, and she, like, creeps up behind some bushes to scare them (spoiler: only Kim Wonpil is shocked). There’s a quick interview just by the bus stop because an elderly couple came by and all five of them scrambled to give up their seats, and it includes moments such as:

Min Ah: (going down the line) Vocals and guitar… vocals and guitar… vocals and bass… vocals and keyboard…  
Dowoon: I am drum.

Min Ah: There are only five of you. Why are you called Six Days A Week?   
Jaehyung: It takes a long time to travel from Everland to Seoul to perform, and so we always hoped that our shifts would only fall on six of the days.   
Min Ah: You mean sometimes you worked all days of the week? (Flashing captions: Long Work Hours!!! Whistleblowing!!!)  
Younghyun: Oh no, no, it depends on the shift schedule, so you could have a different sequence of days off.   
Min Ah: So… do you have any insider hacks for visiting Everland?  
Sungjin: Go on a weekday?  
Min Ah: That’s common sense though.

Min Ah: Do you guys know anything about fashion?   
Wonpil: Not really… we were hoping to learn from noona* (*Min Ah is 1 year older than Jaehyung, who is the oldest in the band).  
Min Ah: (brightly) Well it’s your unlucky day because neither do I. (To Dowoon) Dowoon-ah, thank you for laughing so hard at my jokes. Why did you decide to come on this programme?  
Dowoon: Because our label told us to!   
Min Ah: (pumps fist) That’s right! Let’s get clothes!

We have the obligatory segment in which Min Ah explains to the camera what her styling concept is, except this is filmed with Min Ah in her (caption) ~celebrity van~ while the band is crammed into the seats behind her. As she talks about putting them into fun but cool streetwear (Caption: if you end up just letting the salesperson coordinate…), Wonpil in the background just stares blankly and then literally yawns without covering his mouth.

Min Ah: (turning round) Excuse me, sir, we’re filming right now.   
Wonpil: (embarrassed) Sorry, car rides make me sleepy.  
Min Ah: (points at Younghyun, who has literally fallen asleep next to Wonpil) Is he praying?

The next part of the video is the usual PPL salad where they roll up to some brand that sells overpriced streetwear (can you tell that this is not even 1% of the reason why I’m watching this video) and try on various colourful but potato-shaped things, and truly the PD was right in that Min Ah would never mess up in this episode, because these are guys who make the Everland uniforms look good. 

So while they’re trying on the various things Min Ah flings at them (assisted by that manager from s2 who tried to teach Min Ah how to model, lol), she continues to interview them by bellowing questions outside the fitting room. It’s so funny but it’s also actually quite a thoughtful interview? Like she asks about how they got their start (playing at an event for Everland cast members and then busking and doing other gigs over the next two years while putting out content online), what their journey was like and whether they think all the hustling was worth it, and also what their dreams are for the band. It’s so cute because three of them say at the same time (from different cubicles) that they want to keep playing and sharing their music with people, but Sungjin just says ‘super band’. Dowoon doesn’t answer because he gets stuck in a poncho thing and needs rescuing. 

To keep us in suspense, the final looks are not unveiled at this point, but instead we see Min Ah extracting a promise from them to compose a jingle for her personal Youtube channel (Caption: Kim Min Ah, mercenary).

Wonpil: (while Younghyun is literally helping to fix his hair) Noona, we have to charge an appearance fee.  
Min Ah: Then don’t appear, just send me the mp3.  
Jaehyung: (looks directly at the camera) (Caption: pay your artists!!!)

And then we cut to them back outside on the street, where Min Ah is somehow? formally? wishing them well in their career? Like she’s solemnly shaking their hands and everything while the five of them are just confused and trying not to laugh. 

PD: You’re still going to see them at the performance later??  
Min Ah: Oh, I thought it was time to go home.

The next part is the big reveal and performance, which takes place in front of a funfair carousel that’s really prettily lit in fairy lights (Caption: no time or $$ to go to Everland). Obligatory shots of the various clothes, etc. ensue, and the editor contrasts a shot of the five of them from earlier that day, each in their various t-shirts and messy hair, to them in their new outfits (Caption: hair still a little messy, this is the indie aesthetic?). 

They play their lead single 심쿵 (Shimkoong), and... wow. Kudos to the production team for a truly gorgeous video. It’s all soft light and close ups of their faces and hands interspersed with wider shots of them with that carousel revolving slowly behind them. The captions are all, ‘witness the gap between the regular guys from earlier today and these shining youths’, and I weep because of the ACCURACY. There's also a shot of Min Ah looking genuinely surprised at watching them perform (Caption: sincere reaction).

And then, finally, the closing shot is Min Ah and the band on the carousel as it’s going around, Min Ah rattling off the ‘like, share, subscribe’ etc. lines while the guys thumbs up awkwardly behind her.

Min Ah: Everyone, did you have fun today?  
The band: (uncoordinated) Yes!  
Min Ah: (sing-song, to the camera) They’re gonna write my jingle for free~~

Cut to: wide shot of the camera crew running to keep pace with the carousel, and then the video ends. I’m SCREECHING. 

So anyway, here’s a link to the Shimkoong video performance only, please support this precious band!!!!

(I _think_ based on Kim Min Ah’s instagram they did actually roll up to do a jingle video with her and I will be back when that drops. But now I’m going to go take a nap.)

Comments

**chanyeodel**  
BLESS YOU FOR WRITING THIS UP AND FOR STEADILY DOCUMENTING THIS GROUP’S RISE. I watched this whole video with no subs yesterday just for the sheer cuteness and chaos, but I appreciate actually knowing what was going on. I love Kim Min Ah and I love these underrated faves, here’s hoping the album does well because they absolutely deserve it. 

**jang_na_rargh**  
I’ve literally spent the weekend doing a deep dive of posts and videos about these guys. They’re so talented and incredibly likeable.

> **injeolmi**  
>  Welcome to the club! I stumbled upon one of their early performances when looking up the Amazon Express dance (don’t ask) and have been following them ever since. The club lives are great, but my personal favourite series is the ‘Storage Sessions’ where they’re just jamming. Also Jaehyung’s vlogs are the best.

> **joppipola**  
>  I think they were definitely getting a bit more recognition before they got picked up by the label, especially after a popular Korean lifestyle Youtube channel featured one of their songs as bgm. 

**u_know_nothing**  
The surreal thing is that I actually do remember going to Everland and seeing Younghyun at the Amazon Express ride, and this other girl in the same boat as us was telling us to check out his band on Youtube. At that time I kind of just dismissed it, and then two months later someone else sent me a clip of them busking in Hongdae and my mind was blown.

> **joppipola**  
>  A friend of mine met Wonpil at Everland (she took her nieces to Aesop’s Village), and managed to tell him that she’d listened to their songs. I think that was a few weeks before they finally quit (the other four, at least; I know Dowoon has left for a while to return to university). She said Wonpil was very sweet and embarrassed. She was a casual listener before that but became a huge fan after. :)

**berrywaffle**  
Is nobody going to talk about the moment where they’re walking into the shop and Younghyun is just holding Wonpil’s hand???? 

**Author's Note:**

> Massive thanks to forochel as always for gamely supporting me in this madness, and whose detail about former idol trainee Wonpil in [this lovely fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24247327) kind of snuck its way into my brain and manifested itself here. Thank you for being an absolute A+++++ writing partner-in-crime and for all the wonderful!!! encouraging!! comments. You are the T-express to my Rolling X-Train. <3333
> 
> Some liberties were taken e.g. with Penguin Island, which is entirely an outdoor enclosure irl, but NO liberties were taken with the Amazon Express Welcome Ceremony, which is sublime. Here is a curated list of videos: [1 (2020 edition)](https://youtu.be/eb9reKCbzwE), [2 (Cast House edition, with subs)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Er0mGhMZJ0w), [3 (ft. the excellent fellow from the Workman video)](https://youtu.be/f4cHycJkq1c), [4 (autumn? edition)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SSmBA5OSGJM). And finally, Kim Min Ah’s Musinsa TV videos are [an actual thing](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zLC7Rj2GcKg), but sadly the Min Ah challenge is not.


End file.
